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10. Tale Of A Ghost



Beaten and close to tears, Penny stumbled out of Harley Schirr's office. As she paused just beyond the closed door, every eye in the newsroom focused upon her. Salt Sommers, camera box slung over his shoulder, went over and spoke to her.

"Penny, we all heard that row. If you say the word, we'll walk out of here in a body."

Penny smiled, touched by the expression of loyalty. "That would do no good," she replied. "Thanks just the same."

"We're through taking orders from Schirr!" Salt went on. "He always has been a pain in the neck, and now that he has authority, there's no holding him down. How about it, boys?"

A chorus of approval greeted his words. One of the reporters picked up a paper weight and would have hurled it against the closed door, had not another restrained him.

"I'm sure Dad would want everyone to carry on," Penny said quietly. "The paper must be published the same as always."

"We could do our work and do it well, if Schirr would just leave us alone," growled one of the copy readers.

"That's right!" added another. "Why don't you take over, Penny?"

"Mr. Schirr just reminded me that I'm not the editor. I know nothing about running a newspaper."

"How about the time you ran the High School weekly?" Salt reminded her. "Why, you did a bang up job of it, and uncovered The Secret Pact story to boot! Don't try to tell us you don't know how to run a newspaper!"

"A weekly high school sheet and the Star are two different propositions."

"But your father has a fine organization here," Salt argued. "If Schirr can be kept from breaking it up, everything will go along. The boys all know their jobs."

Penny's eyes began to sparkle. But she said: "I don't see how I could take over, much as I would like to do it. Schirr has staked out rights in Dad's office and nothing will move him short of a court order."

"You don't need a fancy office to run a paper," Salt grinned. "We'll just take our orders from you. Schirr can sit until he's had enough of it."

Penny gazed at the eager, loyal faces about her. Nearly all of the men were old employees, personally trained by her father and Mr. DeWitt. She knew she could depend on them.

"We'll do it!" she exclaimed suddenly. "As your new editor, I wish to issue my first order. Please, let's not publish any more sensational stories about Dad's disappearance."

"Okay Chief," grinned one of the desk men. "That suits us all fine."

Penny was given a seat of honor at the slot of the circular copy desk. There she was able to read and pass upon every story which flowed from the typewriters of the various reporters. With the courteous help of one of the deskmen, she remade the front page of the noon edition. A particularly sensational story about Mr. Parker, prepared earlier in the day, was promptly "busted."

Penny found her new duties exacting, but surprisingly easy. Over the years it was astonishing how much she had learned about the workings of a newspaper plant. At different times she had served as reporter, society editor and special feature writer. As for the editorial policy of the Star, she was thoroughly familiar with it, for her father frequently aired his views at home.

Shortly after the noon edition rolled from the press, the buzzer in Mr. Schirr's office sounded. Mr. Parker's private secretary did not answer. The buzzer kept on for nearly five minutes. Then the door was flung open.

"What the blazes is the matter with everyone?" Schirr shouted.

His gaze fastened upon Penny at the copy desk.

"Meet our new editor, Mr. Schirr," said Salt, who had that moment come out of the camera room.

Schirr ignored Penny. Snatching up one of the noon editions, still fresh with wet ink, he glanced at the front page. His eyes flashed.

"Eckert," he said to the head copy man, "come into my office. I want to talk to you."

"Oh, sure," said Eckert, but he did not follow Schirr into the adjoining room.

Soon the ex-editor came storming out to learn what was wrong. This time his expression was baffled.

"Mr. Eckert," he said with exaggerated politeness. "Will you please step into my office?"

"Sorry," replied the copy reader. "You may as well know right now that you're not giving the orders around here!"

"We'll see about that!" cried Schirr.

Darting to one of the speaking tubes, he called the foreman of the press room.

"Schirr talking!" he said curtly. "Stop the presses! Kill that noon edition! We're making over the front page!"

"Can't hear you," was the reply, for word had been passed to the men in the pressroom. "Louder!"

Schirr shouted until he was nearly hoarse. Then suddenly conscious that he was making a spectacle of himself, he slammed into his office. A minute later he reappeared, hat jammed low over his eyes.

"This is a very clever scheme, Miss Parker," he said, facing her. "Well, it won't work. I'm leaving, but I'll be back. With a lawyer!"

He strode from the newsroom, banging the door so hard the glass rattled.

"Don't worry about that egg," Salt advised Penny. "He's mostly bluff."

"I think he does mean to get a court order," she returned soberly.

"He may try," Salt shrugged. "We can handle him."

Following Schirr's departure, everything moved smoothly at the Star plant. One edition after another rolled from the presses. Penny was kept busy, and frequently she was worried and in doubt. Nevertheless, everyone made the way easy for her, and as the day wore on she gained confidence.

Throughout the afternoon, news stories kept pouring into the Star office, but no encouraging information came in regard to Mr. Parker. Several times Penny called the police station and also talked with Mrs. Weems. The housekeeper, fearful that the girl would become ill, insisted upon bringing a hot evening meal to the office.

"Penny, you've been here all day," she chided anxiously. "You must come home with me."

"I can't just yet," Penny replied. "There's too much to do. By tomorrow, if Schirr doesn't make trouble, things will smooth out."

"You're working so hard you'll be sick abed!"

"I want to work," Penny said grimly. "It keeps me from thinking. Anyway, Dad would want me to do it."

Mrs. Weems sighed as she gathered up the lunch basket and thermos bottle. Penny barely had tasted the food.

"When will you be home?" the housekeeper asked.

"I can't say exactly. After the night editions are out. Don't sit up for me."

"You know I couldn't go to bed until you are home," Mrs. Weems responded. "You'll take a taxi?"

"Of course," promised Penny.

After the housekeeper had gone, she plunged into her duties once more. With the force short of two men, DeWitt and Schirr, there really was too much work for the desk men to do unassisted. Penny wrote headlines, copy-read stories, and passed on all matters of policy. So busy did she keep, that when at length she glanced at her watch, it was eleven-thirty.

"Gracious!" she thought. "And Mrs. Weems will be waiting up for me!"

Saying goodnight to the men who would carry on in her absence, she went down the back stairs to the street. As she glanced about for a taxicab, she saw Old Mose Johnson shuffling toward the loading dock.

"Good evening," she greeted him. "I'm glad to see you're ahead of time tonight."

"Good evenin', Miss Penny," the colored man said, doffing his tattered hat. "Yas'm. I'se heah, but I seed dat same ghost a-lurkin' behind de gate!"

"I hope that ghost isn't becoming a habit with you, Mose."

"Deed Miss Penny, he's mo' dan a habit," the colored man sighed. "He's a suah-nuff live ghost. De fust time I seed him I thought he wasn't no imagination ghost. But when I saw him agin' tonight I was dead suah of it."

"What happened this time, Mose?"

"Well, Miss Penny, I was a walking along dat same road, down by de ole Harrison place when I seed him again. He was a-cavortin' behind dat same iron gate. And he was dressed de same too, in a long white robe."

"And you ran the same too, I suppose?" smiled Penny.

"Ah made myself scarce around dat gate, but I didn't run home dis time. I was a-skeered of mah ole woman. I beats it to de restaurant on de co'ner and waits dere 'till a bus comes. Oh, I'se gettin' good, Miss Penny! I can see a ghost and git to work on time, all de same evenin'!"

"Well, keep up the good work," Penny said jokingly as she turned away.

The meeting with Old Mose had served to divert the girl's mind from her own difficulties. Riding home by taxi, she caught herself reviewing the details of the colored man's outlandish tale.

"Mose couldn't have seen a ghost," she thought, "but he's honest about being frightened. If I didn't have so many serious troubles, I'd be tempted to investigate the old Harrison estate myself."

Penny alighted at her home and walked wearily up the shoveled path. Snow was falling once more. Already the exposed porch was covered with a half-inch coating of feathery flakes.

Inside the house a light flashed on. The bright beam shining through the window drew Penny's attention to a series of freshly-made footprints criss-crossing the porch.

"Mrs. Weems must have had a visitor," she thought, observing that the heel marks were made by a woman's shoe.

As Penny reached for the door knob, her glance fell upon a long, narrow envelope which protruded from the tin mailbox. She removed it, wondering why the housekeeper had neglected to do so.

Mrs. Weems opened the door.

"Thank goodness, you're home at last, Penny. I fell asleep on the davenport. There isn't any word—"

"Not a scrap of news," Penny completed.

Dropping the letter on the center table, she removed her wraps and flung herself full length on the davenport.

"You poor child!" Mrs. Weems murmured. "You're practically exhausted. Please go straight to bed. I'll fix some warm milk and perhaps you can sleep."

"I don't feel as if I'd ever sleep again," Penny declared. "I'm tired, but I feel so excited and tense."

Mrs. Weems picked up the girl's coat and cap. Shaking them free of snow, she hung the garments in the closet.

"Did you have a bad time of it today?" Penny asked after a moment.

"It wasn't exactly pleasant," Mrs. Weems replied. "Reporters and photographers came from every paper in Riverview. The police too—although I was glad to have them. And the telephone! I counted twelve calls in an hour."

"You must be dead. You shouldn't have waited up for me."

"I wanted to, Penny. About an hour ago I thought I heard your step on the porch, but I was mistaken."

Penny sat up. "Haven't you had a caller during the last hour, Mrs. Weems?"

"No, I've been alone."

"But I saw footprints on the porch! And I found this in the mailbox!"

Penny snatched the long envelope from the table. Holding it beneath the bridge lamp, she noticed for the first time that it bore no stamp. Strangely, it was addressed to her.

"Why, where did you get that letter?" cried Mrs. Weems.

"Found it in the mailbox." Penny's hand trembled as she ripped open the flap.

A sheet of writing paper, high quality and slightly perfumed, slid from the envelope. The message was terse and bore no signature at the end. It read:

"Offer a suitable reward and information will be provided as to the whereabouts of your father. Make your offer known in the Star."