Danger at the Drawbridge Read online

  CHAPTER 1 _AN ASSIGNMENT FOR PENNY_

  Penny Parker, leaning indolently against the edge of the kitchen table,watched Mrs. Weems stem strawberries into a bright green bowl.

  "Tempting bait for Dad's jaded appetite," she remarked, helping herselfto the largest berry in the dish. "If he can't eat them, I can."

  "I do wish you'd leave those berries alone," the housekeeper protested inan exasperated tone. "They haven't been washed yet."

  "Oh, I don't mind a few germs," laughed Penny. "I just toss them off likea duck shedding water. Shall I take the breakfast tray up to Dad?"

  "Yes, I wish you would, Penny," sighed Mrs. Weems. "I'm right tired on myfeet this morning. Hot weather always did wear me down."

  She washed the berries and then offered the tray of food to Penny whostarted with it toward the kitchen vestibule.

  "Now where are you going, Penelope Parker?" Mrs. Weems demandedsuspiciously.

  "Oh, just to the automatic lift." Penny's blue eyes were round withinnocence.

  "Don't you dare try to ride in that contraption again!" scolded thehousekeeper. "It was never built to carry human freight."

  "I'm not exactly freight," Penny said with an injured sniff. "It's strongenough to carry me. I know because I tried it last week."

  "You walk up the stairs like a lady or I'll take the tray myself," Mrs.Weems threatened. "I declare, I don't know when you'll grow up."

  "Oh, all right," grumbled Penny good-naturedly. "But I do maintain it's ashameful waste of energy."

  Balancing the tray precariously on the palm of her hand she trippedlightly up the stairway and tapped on the door of her father's bedroom.

  "Come in," he called in a muffled voice.

  Anthony Parker, editor and owner of the _Riverview Star_ sat propped upwith pillows, reading a day-old edition of the newspaper.

  "'Morning, Dad," said Penny cheerfully. "How is our invalid today?"

  "I'm no more an invalid than you are," returned Mr. Parker testily. "Ifthat old quack, Doctor Horn, doesn't let me out of bed today--"

  "You'll simply explode, won't you, Dad?" Penny finished mischievously."Here, drink your coffee and you'll feel less like a stick of dynamite."

  Mr. Parker tossed the newspaper aside and made a place on his knees forthe breakfast tray.

  "Did I hear an argument between you and Mrs. Weems?" he asked curiously.

  "No argument, Dad. I just wanted to ride up in style on the lift. Mrs.Weems thought it wasn't a civilized way to travel."

  "I should think not." The corners of Mr. Parker's mouth twitched slightlyas he poured coffee from the silver pot. "That lift was built to carrybreakfast trays, but not in combination with athletic young ladies."

  "What a bore, this business of growing up," sighed Penny. "You can't benatural at all."

  "You seem to manage rather well with all the restrictions," her fatherremarked dryly.

  Penny twisted her neck to gaze at her reflection in the dresser mirrorbeyond the footboard of the big mahogany bed.

  "I won't mind growing up if only I'm able to develop plenty of glamour,"she said speculatively. "Am I getting any better looking, Dad?"

  "Not that I've noticed," replied Mr. Parker gruffly, but his gazelingered affectionately upon his daughter's golden hair. She really wasgrowing prettier each day and looked more like her mother who had diedwhen Penny was a little girl. He had spoiled her, of course, for she wasan only child, but he was proud because he had taught her to thinkstraight. She was deeply loyal and affectionate and those who loved heroverlooked her casual ways and flippant speech.

  "What happened to the paper boy this morning?" Mr. Parker asked betweenbites of buttered toast.

  "It isn't time for him yet, Dad," said Penny demurely. "You always expecthim at least an hour early."

  "First edition's been off the press a good half hour," grumbled thenewspaper owner. "When I get back to the _Star_ office, I'll see thatdeliveries are speeded up. Just wait until I talk with Roberts!"

  "Haven't you been doing a pretty strenuous job of running the paper rightfrom your bed?" inquired Penny as she refilled her father's cup."Sometimes when you talk with that poor circulation manager I think thetelephone wires will burn off."

  "So I'm a tyrant, am I?"

  "Oh, everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite, Dad. But you'vecertainly not been at your best the last few days."

  Mr. Parker's eyes roved about the luxuriously furnished bedroom. Tintedwalls, chintz draperies, the rich, deep rug, were completely lost uponhim. "This place is a prison," he grumbled.

  For nearly a week the household had been thrown completely out of itsusual routine by the editor's illness. Overwork combined with an attackof influenza had sent him to bed, there to remain until he should bereleased by a doctor's order. With a telephone at his elbow, Mr. Parkerhad kept in close touch with the staff of the _Riverview Star_ but hefretted at confinement.

  "I can't half look after things," he complained. "And now Miss Hilderman,the society editor, is sick. I don't know how we'll get a good story onthe Kippenberg wedding."

  Penny looked up quickly. "Miss Hilderman is ill?"

  "Yes, DeWitt, the city editor, telephoned me a few minutes ago. Shewasn't able to show up for work this morning."

  "I really don't see why he should bother you about that, Dad. Can't MissHilderman's assistant take over the duties?"

  "The routine work, yes, but I don't care to trust her with the Kippenbergstory."

  "Is it something extra special, Dad?"

  "Surely, you've heard of Mrs. Clayton Kippenberg?"

  "The name is familiar but I can't seem to recall--"

  "Clayton Kippenberg made a mint of money in the chain drug business. Noone ever knew exactly the extent of his fortune. He built an elaborateestate about a hundred and twenty-five miles from here, familiarly called_The Castle_ because of its resemblance to an ancient feudal castle. Theestate is cut off from the mainland on three sides and may be reachedeither by boat or by means of a picturesque drawbridge."

  "Sounds interesting," commented Penny.

  "I never saw the place myself. In fact, Kippenberg never allowedoutsiders to visit the estate. Less than a year ago a rumor floatedaround that he had separated from his wife. There also was considerabletalk that he had disappeared because of difficulties with the governmentover income tax evasion and wished to escape arrest. At any rate, hefaded out of the picture while his wife remained in possession of _TheCastle_."

  "And now she is marrying again?"

  "No, it is Mrs. Kippenberg's daughter, Sylvia, who is to be married. Thebridegroom, Grant Atherwald, comes from a very old and distinguishedfamily."

  "I don't see why the story should be so difficult to cover."

  "Mrs. Kippenberg has ruled that no reporters or photographers will beallowed on the estate," explained Mr. Parker.

  "That does complicate the situation."

  "Yes, it may not be easy to persuade Mrs. Kippenberg to change her mind.I rather doubt that our assistant society editor has the ingenuity tohandle the story."

  "Then why don't you send one of the regular reporters? Jerry Livingston,for instance?"

  "Jerry couldn't tell a tulle wedding veil from one of crinoline. Norcould any other man on the staff."

  "I could get that story for you," Penny said suddenly. "Why don't you tryme?"

  Mr. Parker gazed at his daughter speculatively.

  "Do you really think you could?"

  "Of course." Penny spoke with assurance. "Didn't I bring in two perfectlygood scoops for your old sheet?"

  "You certainly did. Your Vanishing Houseboat yarn was one of the beststories we've published in a year of Sundays. And the town is stilltalking about Tale of the Witch Doll."

  "After what I went through to get those stories, a mere wedding would bechild's play."

  "Don't be too confident," warned Mr. Parker. "If Mrs. Kippenberg d
oesn'talter her decision about reporters, the story may be impossible to get."

  "May I try?" Penny asked eagerly.

  Mr. Parker frowned. "Well, I don't know. I hate to send you so far, andthen I have a feeling--"

  "Yes, Dad?"

  "I can't put my thoughts into words. It's just that my newspaper instincttells me this story may develop into something big. Kippenberg'sdisappearance never was fully explained and his wife refused to discussthe affair with reporters."

  "Kippenberg might be at the wedding," said Penny, thinking aloud. "If hewere a normal father he would wish to see his daughter married."

  "You follow my line of thought, Penny. When you're at the estate--if youget in--keep your eyes and ears open."

  "Then you'll let me cover the story?" Penny cried in delight.

  "Yes, I'll telephone the office now and arrange for a photographer to gowith you."

  "Tell them to send Salt Sommers," Penny suggested quickly. "He doesn'tact as know-it-all as some of the other lads."

  "I had Sommers in mind," her father nodded as he reached for thetelephone.

  "And I have a lot more than Salt Sommers in _my_ mind," laughed Penny.

  "Meaning?"

  "Another big story, Dad! A scoop for the _Star_ and this for you."

  Penny implanted a kiss on her father's cheek and skipped joyously fromthe room.