Signal in the Dark Read online

  CHAPTER 2 _EXPLOSION!_

  Penny's first thought was to accost the two girls and correct themisstatements. But sober reflection convinced her she could make nograver mistake. Far better, she reasoned, to ignore the entire matter.

  She quickly washed her hands, purposely making enough noise to drawattention to her presence. Elda and her friend became silent. A momentlater, coming through the inner door of the powder room, they saw her,but offered no comment. Penny hastily returned to the newsroom.

  For the remainder of the day she worked with deep concentration, onlydimly aware of what went on about her. Seemingly there were endlessnumbers of obituaries to write. Telephones rang constantly. Work wasnever finished, for as soon as one edition was off the press, another wasin the making.

  Now and then Penny caught herself glancing toward an empty desk at thefar corner of the room. Jerry Livingston had sat there until a year agowhen he had been granted a leave of absence to join the Army Air Force.Unquestionably the _Star's_ most talented reporter, he had been Penny'sbest friend.

  "I wish Jerry were here," she thought wistfully. "But if he were, he'dtell me to buckle down and not let this job lick me! Dad warned me itwould be hard, monotonous work."

  Penny worked with renewed energy. After awhile she began to feel that shewas making definite progress. Mr. Jewell, the assistant editor, madefewer corrections as he read over her copy, and now and then she actuallysaw him nod approvingly. Once when she turned in a rewritten"hand-out"--a publicity story which had been sent to the paper inunusable form--he praised her for giving it a fresh touch.

  "Good lead," he commented. "You're coming along all right."

  Elda heard the praise and her eyes snapped angrily. At her typewriter,she slammed the carriage. No one noticed except Penny. A moment later,Mr. DeWitt called Elda to his desk, saying severely:

  "Watch the spelling of names, Elda. This is the third one we've checkedyou on today. Don't you ever consult the city directory?"

  "Of course I do!" Elda was indignant.

  "Well, watch it," Mr. DeWitt said again. "We must have accuracy."

  With a swish of skirts, Elda went back to her desk. Her face was as darkas a thunder cloud. Deliberately she dawdled over her next piece of copy.After she had turned it in, she returned to the editor's desk to take itfrom the wire basket and make additional corrections.

  "Just being extra careful of names," she said arrogantly as the assistanteditor shot her a quick, inquiring glance.

  Thinking no more of the incident, Penny kept on with her own work. Shetook special care with names, even looking up in the city directory thoseof which she was almost certain. When she turned in a piece of copy, shewas satisfied that not a name or fact was inaccurate.

  Late in the afternoon, she noticed that Mr. DeWitt and Mr. Jewellappeared displeased about a story they had found in the Five Star editionof the paper. After reading it, they talked together, and then sortedthrough a roll of discarded copy, evidently searching for the original.Finally, Mr. DeWitt called:

  "Miss Parker!"

  Wondering what she had done wrong, Penny went quickly to his desk.

  "You wrote this story?" he asked, jabbing a pencil at one of the printedobituaries.

  "Why, yes," Penny acknowledged. "Is anything wrong with it?"

  "Only that you've buried the wrong man," DeWitt said sarcastically."Where did you get that name?"

  Penny felt actually sick, and her skin prickled with heat. She stared atthe story in print. It said that John Gorman had died that morning inMercy Hospital.

  "The man who died was John Borman," DeWitt said grimly. "It happens thatJohn Gorman is one of the city's most prominent industrialists. We'vemade the correction, but it was too late to catch two-thirds of thepapers."

  Penny stared again at the name, her mind working slowly.

  "But Mr. DeWitt," she protested. "I don't think I wrote it that way. Iknew the correct name was Borman. I'm sure that was how I turned it in."

  "Maybe you hit a wrong letter on the typewriter," the editor said lessseverely. "That's why one always should read over a story after it'swritten."

  "But I did that too," Penny said, and then bit her lip, because sherealized she was arguing about the matter.

  "We'll look at the carbons," decided Mr. DeWitt.

  They had been taken from the spindles by copy boys, but the editorordered the entire day's work returned to his desk. Pawing through thesheets, he came to the one Penny had written. Swiftly he compared it withthe original copy.

  "You're right!" he exclaimed in amazement. "The carbons show you wrotethe name John Borman, not Gorman."

  "I knew I did!"

  "But the copy that was turned into the basket said John Gorman. Didn'tyou change it on the first sheet?"

  "Indeed I didn't, Mr. DeWitt."

  Scowling, the editor compared the two copies. Obviously on the originalsheet, a neat erasure had been made, and a typewritten letter _G_ hadbeen substituted for _B_.

  "There's something funny about this," Mr. DeWitt said. "Mighty funny!"His gaze roved about the typewriter table, focusing for an instant uponElda who had been listening intently to the conversation. "Never mind,"he added to Penny. "We'll look into this."

  Later, she saw him showing the copy sheets to the assistant editor.Seemingly, the two men were deeply puzzled as to how the error had beenmade. Penny had her own opinion.

  "Elda did it," she thought resentfully. "I'll wager she removed the sheetfrom the wire basket when she pretended to be making a correction on herown story!"

  Having no proof, Penny wisely kept her thoughts to herself. But she knewthat in the future she must take double precautions to guard againstother tricks to discredit her.

  At the end of the day, the newsroom rapidly emptied. One by one,reporters covered their typewriters and left the building. A few of thegirls remained, among them, Penny and Elda. Editor DeWitt was putting onhis hat when the telephone rang.

  Absently he reached for it and then straightened to alert attention.Grabbing a sheet of copy paper, he scrawled a few words. Eyes focusedupon him, for instinctively everyone knew that something important hadhappened.

  DeWitt hung up the receiver, his eyes staring into space for an instant.Then he seized the telephone again and called the composing room.

  "Hold the paper!" he ordered tersely. "We're making over the front page!"

  The news was electrifying, for only a story of the greatest importancewould bring an order to stop the thundering presses once they had startedto roll.

  Calling the photography room, DeWitt demanded: "Is Salt Sommers stillthere? Tell him to grab his camera and get over to the Conway Steel Plantin double-quick time! There's been a big explosion! They think it'ssabotage!"

  The editor's harassed gaze then wandered over the little group ofremaining reporters. Elda pushed toward the desk.

  "You want me to go over there, Chief?" she demanded eagerly.

  DeWitt did not appear to hear her. Seizing the telephone once more, hetried without success to get two of the men reporters who had left theoffice only a few minutes earlier.

  Slamming down the receiver, his gloomy gaze focused upon Elda for aninstant. But he passed her by.

  "Miss Parker!"

  Penny was beside him in a flash.

  "Ride with Salt Sommers to the Conway Plant!" he ordered tersely. "Twomen have been reported killed in the explosion! Get everything you canand hold on until relieved!"

  Seizing hat and purse, Penny made a dash for the stairway. No need forDeWitt to tell her that this was a big story! Because all the otherreporters except Elda were gone, she had been given the assignment! Butcould she make good?

  "This is my chance!" she thought jubilantly. "DeWitt probably thinks I'llfold up, but I'll prove to him I can get the facts as well as one of hisseasoned reporters."

  Penny was well acquainted with Salt Sommers, who next to Jerr
y Livingstonwas her best friend. Reaching the ground floor, she saw his battered carstarting away from the curb.

  "Salt!" she shouted. "Wait!"

  The photographer halted and swung open the car door. She slid in besidehim.

  "What are you doing here, Penny?" he demanded, shifting gears.

  "I'm your little assistant," Penny broke the news gently. "I just startedto work on the paper."

  "And DeWitt assigned you to this story?"

  "He couldn't help himself. Nearly everyone else had left the office."

  The car whirled around a corner and raced through a traffic light just asit turned amber. Suddenly from far away, there came a dull explosionwhich rocked the pavement. Salt and Penny stared at each other with alertcomprehension.

  "That was at the Conway Plant!" the photographer exclaimed, pushing hisfoot hard on the gas pedal. "Penny, we've got a real assignment ahead ofus!"