Ghost Beyond the Gate

  CHAPTER 5 _AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW_

  After her father had gone, Penny remained in the private office. Eager tobe off, Mr. Parker had neglected to make any arrangements concerning thestripped car at the Riverview Yacht Club.

  "Oh, bother!" she thought impatiently. "Now I must wait here until hecomes back to learn what I'm to do. The car should be hauled home."

  Penny wrote a letter on the typewriter. As she searched for a stamp, thedoor swung open. A slightly bald, angular man with hard brown eyes,paused on the threshold. The man was Harley Schirr, an assistant editor,next in authority to Mr. DeWitt. Of the entire _Star_ staff, he was theonly person Penny actively disliked.

  "Oh, good morning, Miss Parker," he said with elaborate courtesy. "Yourfather isn't here?"

  "No, he went away a few minutes ago."

  "And you are taking care of the office in his absence?" Mr. Schirrsmiled. Even so, to Penny's sensitive ears, the words had an insolentring.

  "I'm merely waiting for him to return," she answered briefly. "I came tofind out what to do about the car."

  "Oh, yes, I heard that all of your tires were stolen last night." Mr.Schirr's lips twitched. "Too bad."

  "I may get them back again. Dad says--" Penny checked herself,remembering that the information given her by her father was to be keptsecret.

  "Yes?" encouraged the assistant editor.

  "Perhaps police will catch the thieves," she completed.

  "I shouldn't count on it if I were you, Miss Parker. Black Markets haveflourished in this city for months. Nothing's been done to stop it."

  "Just what do you mean by a Black Market, Mr. Schirr?"

  "Illegal trading in various scarce commodities. Tires either stolen orhijacked, are sold by the crooks to so-called honest dealers who servethe public. It's now a big-time business."

  "What does Dad think about it?"

  "Well, now, I really couldn't tell you. Your father doesn't discuss hiseditorial policy with me. If he did, I'd warn him to lay off all thosetire-theft stories."

  Penny gazed quickly at the assistant editor, wondering how much he knewof her father's plan.

  "Dad usually prints all the news," she said. "Why should he soft-pedalthe tire stories?"

  "For his health's sake."

  "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Schirr."

  The assistant editor had closed the door behind him. Warming to hissubject, he replied: "The men who have muscled into the tire theft racketare ugly lads without scruples. If your father stupidly insists upontrying to smash the outfit, he may not wake up some morning."

  The suggestion that her father might ruthlessly be done away with shockedPenny. And a canny corner of her mind demanded to know how Mr. Schirrcould be so well informed. She was quite certain her father had not takenhim into his confidence.

  "Dad is no coward," she said proudly.

  "Oh, no one ever questioned his bravery, Miss Parker. Your father iscourageous to the point of rashness. But if he prints an expose storyabout the tire theft gang, it's apt to prove the most foolish act of hislife."

  "How do you know he intends to do such a thing?"

  The question, sharply put, surprised Mr. Schirr.

  "Oh, I don't," he denied hastily. "I merely heard the rumor around theoffice."

  Penny made no reply. As the silence became noticeable, the assistanteditor murmured that he would return to see Mr. Parker later and left theoffice.

  Penny glared at the man's retreating back. Even more intensely thanbefore, she disliked Harley Schirr.

  "The old sneak cat!" she thought. "I'll bet a cent he's been listening atthe door or prying in Dad's papers! I'm sure no rumors have beencirculating around the office."

  The telephone rang. Automatically Penny took down the receiver.

  "Mr. Parker?" inquired a masculine voice.

  "He's not here now. This is his daughter speaking. May I take a message?"

  "No message," said the purring voice. "Mr. Parker may hear from melater."

  "Who is this, please?" asked Penny quickly.

  There was no answer, only the click of a receiver being hung on its hook.

  The incident, although trifling, annoyed Penny. Getting up from the desk,she walked to the window. Mr. Schirr's intimation had alarmed her, andnow the telephone call added to her uneasiness.

  "Probably the man who telephoned is well known to Dad," she tried toassure herself. "I'm just imagining that his voice sounded sinister."

  Feeling the need of an occupation, Penny wandered out into the editorialroom. She chatted with the society editor and for a time watched theworld news reports coming in on the noisy teletype machines.

  "Need a job?" inquired Editor DeWitt at the slot of the circular copydesk. "How about writing a few headlines for me?"

  "No, thanks," Penny declined. "I'm just waiting for Dad. He should beback any minute now."

  It was eleven-forty by the office clock. Never had time seemed to pass soslowly. As Penny debated whether or not to wait any longer, there was asudden stir in the room. Glancing toward the outside door, she saw thatJerry Livingston, suitcase in hand, had entered.

  Immediately reporters and editors left their desks to shake his hand.

  "Jerry, you're the best reporter this paper ever had," Mr. DeWitt toldhim warmly. "We surely hate to see you go."

  "Oh, I'll be back," the reporter answered. "You can bet on that!"

  Penny crossed the room to say goodbye. Jerry surprisingly tucked her armthrough his.

  "Come along and see me off on the train," he invited, pulling her along."Not doing anything special, are you?"

  "Just waiting for Dad."

  "Then come on," Jerry grinned. "I've got a lot to say to you."

  However, once in the taxi, speeding toward the railroad station, thereporter scarcely spoke. He reached out and captured her hand.

  "I'm going to miss you, little twirp," he sighed. "No telling when I'llget back to the _Star_. Maybe--"

  "Now don't try to work on my sympathies," laughed Penny, though a lumpcame in her throat. "Oh, Jerry--"

  "At your command. Just break down and confess how desolate you'll bewithout me."

  The railroad station was close by and Penny had only a moment to talk.

  "Riverview will be a blank without you," she admitted. "But it's thattire-theft story I want to ask you about. Did you ever tell anyone thatDad is planning to expose the gang?"

  "Of course not!"

  "I knew you wouldn't give out any information," Penny said in relief."But somehow Harley Schirr has learned about it."

  "Schirr! That egg? How could he have found out?"

  "I'd like to know myself. He hinted that something dreadful might happento Dad if the story is printed."

  Jerry patted Penny's hand. "Don't give it a thought, kid," he said."Schirr does a lot of wild talking. Probably whatever he said to you waspure bluff. He doesn't know a thing."

  The arrival of the cab at the station put an end to the conversation.Jerry paid the driver and hustled Penny inside. He barely had time topurchase a ticket before the train was called.

  "Well, goodbye," Jerry said, squeezing her hand.

  "Have a good time in Canada," Penny replied. "And bring me a nice bearrug!"

  "Sure, I'll catch him with my bare hands," Jerry rejoined, making afeeble attempt at a joke.

  The train began to move. The reporter swung himself aboard the lastPullman. As he waved from the steps, Penny realized that she hadforgotten to ask for his Canadian address.

  Soon the train was only a blur down the frosty tracks. Penny climbed asteep ramp to the street. She felt lonesome, and for some reason,discouraged.

  "First I lose my car wheels, and now it's Jerry," she reflected sadly."What a week!"

  Penny scarcely knew whether to go home or to the _Star_ office. As shedebated the matter, her ears were assaulted by the shrill scream of asiren.

>   "A fire," thought Penny.

  An ambulance rushed past. It raced to the end of the short street andpulled up.

  "Probably an accident," amended Penny.

  Curious to learn what had happened, she began to run. At the end of thestreet a large crowd had gathered. A car with a smashed fender anddamaged front grillwork, had piled against a street lamp.

  "What happened?" Penny asked a man who stood beside her.

  "Two cars in a smash-up," he answered. "Didn't see the accident myself."

  "But what became of the other automobile?" asked Penny.

  She pushed through the gathering crowd to the curb. Broken glass wasscattered over the pavement. Ambulance men were searching the wreckage ofthe car which had struck the lamp post. The other automobile, apparently,had driven away.

  Suddenly, Penny's gaze riveted on the rear license plate of the smashedcar. In horror she read the number--P-619-10.

  "Dad's car!" she whispered. "He's been hurt!"