The Secret Pact

  CHAPTER 3 _THE OCTOPUS TATTOO_

  Jerry bent closer to examine the strange tattoo. Between the two foremostarms of the octopus was sketched a single word: ALL.

  "'All,'" he read aloud. "What does that signify?"

  His question angered the man on the couch. Snatching the shirt fromCaptain Dubbins, he made a feeble, ineffectual effort to get his armsinto it.

  "I want out o' here," he muttered. "Quit starin', you two, and give me ahand!"

  "Take it easy," advised the tugboat captain soothingly. "We was justtryin' to see if your back was badly hurt."

  "Sorry," the man muttered. Relaxing, he leaned weakly against the leathercushions. "I ain't myself."

  "You swallowed a little water," remarked the captain.

  "A little?" growled the other. "Half the river went down my gullet." Asan afterthought he added: "Thanks for pullin' me out."

  "You're welcome," responded the captain dryly. "Ex-sailor, aren't you?"

  "Yeah. How did you know?"

  "I can usually tell 'em. Out of work?"

  "No." The man's curt answers made it clear that he resented questions.

  "You haven't told us your name."

  "John Munn," the man replied after a slight hesitation.

  "We tried to catch the man who pushed you off the bridge," contributedJerry. "He got away."

  The sailor gazed steadily, almost defiantly at the reporter.

  "No one pushed me off the bridge," he said. "I fell."

  "You fell?" echoed Jerry. "Why, I thought I saw you and another manstruggling--"

  "You thought wrong," the sailor interrupted. "I was leaning over, lookin'into the water an' I lost my balance. That was how it happened."

  "As you please, Mr. Munn," said Jerry with exaggerated politeness. "Oh,by the way, what's the significance of that octopus thing on your back?"

  "Leave me alone, will you?" the sailor muttered. "Ain't a man got anyright to privacy?"

  "Better not bother him while he's feeling so low," said the tugboatcaptain significantly. "I'll get him into some dry clothes."

  "Nothing I can do?"

  "No, thanks, he'll be all right."

  "Well, so long," Jerry said carelessly. With another curious glancedirected at the sailor, he left the pilot-house, leaping from the deck toshore. Penny stood waiting.

  "Jerry, what was the matter with that fellow?" she demanded in a whisper."What did he have on his back? And why did he lie about being pushed offthe bridge?"

  "You heard us talking?"

  "I couldn't help it. You were fairly shouting at each other for awhile."

  "Mr. John Munn wasn't very grateful to the captain for being saved. Hetook offense when we tried to look at his back."

  "I thought I heard you say something about an octopus. Was it a tattoo,Jerry?"

  "Yes, and as strange a one as I've ever seen. The picture of an octopus.Between its forearms was the word: 'All.'"

  "What could that mean?"

  "I tried to learn, but Mr. John Munn wasn't in a talkative mood."

  "It seems rather mysterious, doesn't it?"

  "Oh, I don't know." Jerry took Penny's arm to aid her in making the steepclimb. "Sailors have some funny ideas regarding self-decoration. ThisMunn was a peculiar fellow."

  "It was odd that he would lie about being pushed off the bridge. Jerry,will you write it for the paper?"

  "The story isn't worth more than a few lines, Penny. We can't say thatMunn was pushed off the bridge."

  "Why not? It's true."

  "Munn would deny it, and then the _Star_ would appear ridiculous."

  "If I owned a paper, I certainly would use the story," declared Penny."Why, it has wonderful possibilities."

  "I fear your father never would agree. You talk him into printing theyarn and I'll be glad to write it."

  "Oh, I suppose we must forget about it," Penny grumbled. "All the same,I'd like nothing better than to work on the story myself."

  Reaching the pavement, they cleaned mud from their shoes before walkingon to the waiting taxi. Louise immediately plied them with questions,displaying particular interest in the octopus tattoo.

  "Do you suppose the man knew who pushed him off the bridge?" she inquiredthoughtfully.

  "I'll venture he did," replied Penny. "Probably that was the reason hewouldn't tell."

  The taxi crossed the bridge and made slow progress away from the river.As the road gradually wound toward higher ground, the fog became lighterand the driver was able to make faster time. A clock chimed the hour ofeleven.

  "How about stopping somewhere for a bite to eat?" Jerry suddenlyproposed.

  "Won't Dad be waiting at the _Star_ office?" Penny asked.

  "He suggested that I keep you girls entertained until aroundeleven-thirty if I could."

  "That being the case, we'll accept your invitation with alacrity,"laughed Penny. "How about the Golden Pheasant?"

  "Oh, no, you don't! Phillip's Bean Pot is nearer my speed."

  A block farther down the street Jerry paid the driver and escorted thegirls into a clean but low-priced restaurant.

  "No item on the menu over ten cents," he chuckled. "Do your worst. I cantake it."

  Penny and Louise ordered sandwiches, while the reporter fortified himselfwith a plate of scrambled eggs, two doughnuts, and a cup of coffee.Returning to the front counter for a forgotten napkin, he noddedcarelessly at an elderly man who sat alone, sipping a glass of orangejuice.

  The man acknowledged the greeting in an embarrassed way, quickly loweringhis head. Within a few minutes he left the cafe.

  "Jerry, who was he?" Penny inquired curiously. "I am sure I've seen himbefore, yet I can't remember where."

  "That was old man Judson. Matthew Judson."

  "Not the former publisher of the _Morning Press_!"

  "Yes, the old man's been going to pieces fast since he closed hisnewspaper plant. Looks seedy, doesn't he?"

  "His clothes were a bit shiny. I thought he seemed rather embarrassedbecause you spoke to him."

  "Old Judson feels his come-down I guess. In the flush days he wouldn't becaught dead in a beanery."

  "Is he really poor, Jerry?"

  "Probably down to his last hundred thousand," the reporter grinned.

  "What you say is conflicting," declared Penny impatiently. "First youimply that Mr. Judson is poor, and then that he's rich. I wish you wouldmake up your mind."

  "Frankly, I don't know. Judson owns a fine home on Drexell Boulevardwhich he's allowed to run down. I've been told he sold the _MorningPress_ building several months ago. Some say he has plenty of cash saltedaway, others that he's broke."

  "How did he lose so much of his money, Jerry?"

  "No one seems to know for certain. According to rumor he plays the stockmarket heavily."

  "It's strange he closed down the _Morning Press_," Penny remarkedthoughtfully. "I always thought it was a profitable paper."

  "So did everyone else. The _Press_ had a large circulation. But onebright Monday morning Judson posted a notice, closed the plant, and threwover a thousand employes out of work."

  "That was nearly a year ago, wasn't it, Jerry?"

  "Thirteen months to be exact. Why this sudden interest in Judson?"

  "Oh, I don't know," Penny replied vaguely. "His case seems ratherpathetic. Then, too, he reminds me of someone I've seen recently. I wishI could recall--"

  Jerry glanced at the wall clock, swallowing his coffee with a gulp.

  "Time to move along," he announced. "We mustn't keep your father waiting,Penny."

  They left the cafe and Jerry hailed a passing taxicab.

  "It's only four blocks to the _Star_ building," protested Penny. "Aren'tyou being too lavish with your money, Jerry?"

  "Oh, I'll add this item to my expense account," he laughed. "Jump in."

  The taxi turned left at Adams street, rolling slowly through the downtownbusine
ss section. Jerry peered from the car window at a large, four-storystone building which occupied a corner.

  "That place sure looks like a morgue these days," he commented. "_TheMorning Press._"

  Penny and Louise likewise twisted sideways to stare at the dark, desertedbuilding. Windows were plastered with disfiguring posters and the whitestone blocks, once so beautiful, were streaked with city grime.

  "When the _Press_ closed, machinery, furniture and everything else wasleft exactly as it stood," remarked Jerry. "Too bad an enterprisingnewspaper man doesn't take over the place before it's a complete loss.The present owner doesn't even employ a watchman to protect theproperty."

  "It does seem a shame--" Penny began, only to break off. "Why, that'sfunny!"

  "What is?" inquired Jerry.

  Penny had turned to glance back at the _Morning Press_ plant.

  "The building isn't deserted!" she exclaimed. "There's a light in one ofthe upstairs rooms!"