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PENNY HUDDLED AGAINST THE WALL WATCHING
FEARFULLY.
“The Clock Strikes Thirteen" (See Page 191)


- - - - ------- - - - - - -->=====~~~~<-----------
| The Clock *
|Strikes Thirteen,
By
MILDRED A. WIRT
Author of
J
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
Illustrated
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
Publishers
NEW YORK


PENNY PARK E. R.
MYSTERY STORIES
Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
Other Titles in Preparation
COPYRIGHT, 1942, BY CUPPLES AND LEON Co.
The C lock Strike S T h ir t e en
PRINTED IN U.S. A.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --------------> -- a--------------
CHAPTER
1
SANDWICHES FOR TWO
JAUNTILY, PENNY PARKER walked through the
dimly lighted newsroom of the Riverview Star, her
rubber heels making no sound on the bare, freshly
scrubbed floor. Desks were deserted, for the final
night edition of the paper had gone to press half an
hour earlier, and only the cleaning women were at
work. One of the women arrested a long sweep of her
mop just in time to avoid splashing the girl with water.
“I sorry,” she apologized in her best broken English.
“I no look for someone to come so very late.”
“Oh, curfew never rings for me,” Penny laughed,
side stepping a puddle of water. “I’m likely to be
abroad at any hour.”
At the far end of the long room a light glowed be-
hind a frosted glass door marked: “Anthony Parker—
Editor.” There the girl paused, and seeing her father's
grotesque shadow, opened the door a tiny crack, to
rumble in a deep voice:
“Hands up! I have you covered!”
I


2 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
Taken by surprise, Mr. Parker swung quickly
around, his swivel chair squeaking a loud protest.
“Penny, I wish you wouldn't do that!” he exclaimed.
“You know it always makes me jump.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Penny grinned, slumping into a
leather chair beside her father's desk. “A girl has to
have some amusement, you know.”
“Didn't three hours at the moving picture theatre
satisfy you?”
“Oh, the show was worse than awful. By the way,
here's something for you.”
Removing a sealed yellow envelope from her purse,
Penny flipped it carelessly across the desk. .
“I met a Western Union boy downstairs,” she ex-
plained. “He was looking for you. I paid for the
message and saved him a trip upstairs. Two dollars
and ten cents, if you don't mind.”
Absently Mr. Parker took two crisp dollar bills from
his pocket and reached for the telegram.
“Don’t forget the dime,” Penny reminded him. “It
may seem a trifle to you, but not to a girl who has to
live on a weekly allowance.”
For lack of change, the editor tossed over a quarter,
which his daughter pocketed with deep satisfaction.
Ripping open the envelope, he scanned the telegram,
but as he read, his face darkened.
“Why, Dad, what's wrong?” Penny asked in sur-
prise. -


SANDWICHES FOR TWO 3.
-----------------~~~====< *----------------
Mr. Parker crumpled the sheet into a round ball and
hurled it toward the waste paper basket.
“Your aim gets worse every day,” Penny chuckled,
stooping to retrieve the paper. Smoothing the cor-
rugations, she read aloud: -
“YoUR EDITORIAL FREEDOM OF THE PRESS IN
THURSDAY's STAR THOROUGHLY DISGUSTED THIS
READER. wHAT YoUR CHEAP PAPER NEEDs Is A
LITTLE LESS FREEDOM AND MORE DECENCY. IF OUR
FOREFATHERS COULD HAVE FORESEEN THE YELLOW
PRESS OF TODAY THEY wouLD HAVE REGULATED IT,
NOT MADE IT FREE. why DoN'T YoU TAKE THAT
AMERICAN FLAG OFF YOUR MASTHEAD AND suBSTI-
TUTE A CASH REGISTERP FLY YOUR TRUE COLORS
AND SOFT-PEDAL THE PARKER BRAND OF HYPOC-
RISY!”
“Stop it—don't read another line!” the editor com-
manded before Penny had half finished.
“Why, Dad, you poor old wounded lion!” she
chided, blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I thought
you prided yourself that uncomplimentary opinions
never disturbed you. Can't you take it any more?”
“I don't mind a few insults,” Mr. Parker snapped,
“but paying for them is another matter.”
“That's so, this little gem of literature did set you
back two dollars and ten cents. Lucky I collected be-
fore you opened the telegram.” -


4, THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
Mr. Parker slammed his desk shut with a force
which rattled the oflice windows.
“This same crack-‘pot who signs himself ‘Disgusted
Reader’ or ‘Ben Bowman,’ or whatever name suits his
fancy, has sent me six telegrams in the past month!
I’m getting fed up!”
“All of the messages collect?”
“Every one. The nit-wit has criticised everything
from the Star’s comic strips to the advertising columns.
I’ve had enough of it!”
“Then why not do something about it?” Penny
asked soothingly. “Refuse the telegrams.”
“It’s not that easy,” the editor growled. “Each day
the Star receives a large number of ‘collect’ messages,
hot news tips from out-of-town correspondents and
from reporters who try to sell free lance stories.
We’re glad to pay for these telegrams. This fellow
who keeps bombarding 1is is just smart enough to use
different names and send his wires from various places.
Sometimes he addresses the telegrams to me, and then
perhaps to City Editor DeWitt or one of the other
stafl members.” .
“In that case, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” Penny
said teasingly. “How about drowning your troubles
in a little sleep?”
“It is late,” Mr. Parker admitted, glancing at his
watch. “Almost midnight. Time We’re starting
home.”


SANDWICHES FOR‘ TWO 5
Reaching for his hat, Mr. Parker switched off the
light, locked the door, and followed Penny down the
stairway to the street. At the parking lot opposite the
Star building, he tramped about restlessly while wait-
ing fot an attendant to bring the car.
“I’ll drive,” Penny said, sliding behind the steering
wheel. “In your present mood you might inadvert-
ently pick off a few pedestrians!”
“It makes my blood boil,” Mr. Parker muttered, his
thoughts reverting to the telegram. “Call my paper
yellow, eh? And that crack about the cash register!”
“Oh, everyone knows the Star is the best paper in
the state,” Penny said, trying to coax him into a better
mood. “You’re a good editor too, and a pretty fair
father.”
“Thanks,” Mr. Parker responded with a mock bow.
“Since we’re passing out compliments, you’re not so
bad yourself.” '
Suddenly relaxing, he reached out to touch Penny’s
hand in a rare expression of affection. Tall and lean,
a newspaper man with a reputation for courage and
fight, he had only two interests in life—his paper and
his daughter. Penny’s mother had been dead many
years, but at times he saw his wife again in the girl’s
sparkling blue eyes, golden hair, and especially in the
way she smiled. i
“Hungry, Dad? ” Penny asked unexpectedly, intrud-
ing upon his thoughts. “I know a dandy new ham-


6 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
burger place not far from here. Wonderful coffee
too.” -
“Well, all right,” Mr. Parker consented. “It's
pretty late though. The big clock's striking mid-
night.”
As the car halted for a traffic light, they both lis-
tened to the musical chimes which preceded the regu-
larly spaced strokes of the giant clock. Penny turned
her head to gaze at the Hubell Memorial Tower, a
grim stone building which rose to the height of
seventy-five feet. Erected ten years before as a monu-
ment to one of Riverview's wealthy citizens, its chimes
could be heard for nearly a mile on a still night. On
one side, its high, narrow windows overlooked the
city, while on the other, the cultivated lands of truck
farmers.
“How strange!” Penny murmured as the last stroke
of the clock died away.
“What is strange?” Mr. Parker asked gruffly.
“Why, that clock struck thirteen times instead of
twelve!”
“Bunk and bosh!”
“Oh, but it did!” Penny earnestly insisted. “I
counted each stroke distinctly.” -
“And one of them twice,” scoffed her father. “Or
are you spoofing your old Dad?”
“Oh, I'm not,” Penny maintained. As the car
moved ahead, she craned her neck to stare up at the


8 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
D
man named Peter Fenestra. Penny’s gaze fastened
momentarily upon an old fashioned storm cellar which
marred the appearance of the front yard.
“I suppose I imagined all that too,” she said, waving
her hand toward the disfiguring cement hump. “Old
Peter never had any hidden gold, he never had a
SECRET PACT with tatooed sailors, and he never
tried to burn your newspaper plant!”
“I’ll admit you did a nice piece of detective work
when you uncovered that story,” her father acknowl-
edged. “Likewise, you brought the Star one of its best
scoops by outwitting slippery Al Gepper and entan-
gling him in his own Silken Ladder.”
“Don’t forget the Tale of the Witch Doll either,”
Penny reminded him. “You laughed at me then, just
as you’re doing now.”
“I’m not laughing,” denied the editor. “I merely
say that no light was burning in the tower window,
and I very much doubt that the clock struck more
than twelve times.”
“Tomorrow I shall go to the tower and talk with the
caretaker, Seth McGuire. I’ll prove to you that I was
right!”
“If you do, I’ll treat to a dish of ice cream decorated
with nuts.”
“Make it five gallons of gasoline and I’ll be really in-
terested,” she countered.
Due to an unusual set of circumstances, Penny had
fallen heir to two automobiles, one a second-hand con-


SANDWICHES FOR TWO 9
traption whose battered sides bore the signature of
nearly every young person in Riverview. The other,
a handsome maroon sedan, had been the gift of her
father, presented in gratitude because of her excellent
reporting of a case known to many as Behind the
Green Door. Always hard pressed for funds, she
found it all but impossible to keep two automobiles in
operation, and her financial difficulties were a constant
source of amusement to everyone but herself.
Soon, an electric sign proclaiming “Toni’s” in huge
block letters loomed up. Penny swung into the park-
ing area, tooting the hom for service. Immediately -a
white-coated waiter brought out a menu.
“Coffee and two hamburgers,” Penny ordered with
a flourish. “Everything on one, and everything but,
on the other.”
“No onions for the little lady?” the waiter grinned.
“Okay. I’ll have ’em right out.”
While waiting, Penny noticed that another car, a
gray sedan, had drawn up close to the building. Al-
though the two men who occupied the front seat had
ordered food, they were not eating it. Instead they
conversed in low tones as they appeared to watch
someone inside the cafe.
“Dad, notice those two men,” she whispered, touch-
ing his arm. p
“What about them?” he asked, but before she could
reply, the waiter came with a tray of sandwiches which
he hooked over the car door.


IO THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“Not bad,” Mr. Parker praised as he bit into a giant-
size hamburger. “First decent cup of coffee I’ve had
in a week too.”
“Dad, watch!” Penny reminded him.
The restaurant door had opened, and a man of early
middle age came outside. Immediately the couple in
the gray sedan stiffened to alert attention. As the man
passed their car they lowered their heads, but the in-
stant he had gone on, they turned to peer after him.
The man who was being observed so closely seemed
unaware of the scrutiny. Crossing the parking lot, he
chose a trail which led into a dense grove of trees.
“Now’s our chance!” cried one of the men in the
gray sedan. “Come on, we'll get him!” Both alighted
and likewise disappeared into the woods.
“Dad, did you hear what they said?” asked Penny.
“I did,” he answered grimly. “Tough looking cus-
tomers too.”
“I'm afraid they mean to rob that first man. Isn't
there anything we can do?”
Mr. Parker barely hesitated. “I may make a chump
of myself,” he said, “but here goes! I'll tag along and
try to be on hand if anything happens.”
“Dad, don't do it!” Penny pleaded, suddenly fright-
ened lest her father face danger. “You might get
hurt!”
Mr. Parker paid no heed. Swinging open the car
door, he strode across the parking lot, and entered the
dark woods.


- - --- ~~~~
CHAPTER
2
NIGHT RIDERS
NOT TO be left behind, Penny quickly followed her
father, overtaking him before he had gone very far
into the forest.
“Penny, you shouldn't have come,” he said sternly.
“There may be trouble, and I'll not have you taking
unnecessary risks.”
“I don't want you to do it either,” she insisted.
“Which way did the men go?” -
“That's what I wonder,” Mr. Parker responded, lis-
tening intently. “Hear anything?”
“Not a sound.”
“Queer that all three of them could disappear so
quickly,” the editor muttered. “I’m sure there's been
no attack. Listen! What was that?”
“It sounded like a car being started!” Penny ex-
claimed.
Hastening to the edge of the woods, she gazed to-
ward the parking lot. The Parker car stood where it
had been abandoned, but the gray sedan was missing.
A moving tail light could be seen far down the road.
II


I 2 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“There go our friends," Mr. Parker commented
rather irritably. “Their sudden departure probably
saved me from making a chump of myself.”
“How could we tell they didn't mean to rob that
other man?” Penny asked in an injured tone. “You
thought yourself that they intended to harm him.”
“Oh, I'm not blaming you,” the editor answered,
starting toward the parking lot. “I’m annoyed at my-
self. This is a graphic example of what we were talk-
ing about awhile ago—imagination!”
Decidedly crestfallen, Penny followed her father to
the car. They finished their hamburgers, which had
grown cold, and after the tray was removed, started
home.
“I could do with a little sleep,” Mr. Parker yawned.
“After a hard day at the office, your brand of night
life is a bit too strenuous for me.”
Selecting a short-cut route to Riverview, Penny
paid strict attention to the road, for the narrow pave-
ment had been patched in many places. On either
side of the highway stretched truck farms with row
upon row of neatly staked tomatoes and other crops.
Rounding a bend, Penny was startled to see tongues
of flame brightening the horizon. A large wooden
barn, situated in plain view, on a slight knoll, had
caught fire and was burning rapidly. As she slammed
on the brake, Mr. Parker aroused from light slumber.
“Now what?” he mumbled drowsily.


, NIGHT RIDERS I3
----------------~~~~<=-----------------------
“Dad, unless I’m imagining things again, that barn
is on fire!”
“Let’er burn,” he mumbled, and then fully aroused,
swung open the car door.
There were no fire fighters on the scene, in fact the
only person visible was a woman in dark flannel night
robe, who stood silhouetted in the red glare. As
Penny and Mr. Parker reached her side, she stared at
them almost stupidly.
“We'll lose everything,” she said tonelessly. “Our
entire crop of melons is inside the barn, packed for
shipment. And my husband's new truck!”
“Have you called a fire company?” the editor asked.
“I’ve called, but it won't do any good,” she an-
swered. “The barn will be gone before they can get
here.” -
With a high wind whipping the flames, Penny and
her father knew that the woman spoke the truth. Al-
ready the fire had such a start that even had water been
available, the barn could not have been saved.
“Maybe I can get out the truck for you!” Mr.
Parker offered.
As he swung open the barn doors, a wave of heat
rushed into his face. Coughing and choking, he
forced his way into the smoke filled interior, unaware
that Penny was at his side. Seeing her a moment later,
he tried to send her back.
“You can't get the truck out without me to help


I4 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
push,” she replied, refusing to retreat. “Come on, we
can do it!”
The shiny red truck was a fairly light one and stood
on an inclined cement floor which sloped toward the
exit. Nevertheless, although Penny and her father ex-
erted every iota of their combined strength, they could
not start it moving. -
“Maybe the brake is on!” Mr. Parker gasped, run-
ning around to the cab. “Yes, it is!”
Pushing once more, they were able to start the truck
rolling. Once in motion its own momentum carried
it down the runway into the open, a safe distance from
the flames.
“How about the crated melons?” Penny asked,
breathing hard from the strenuous exertion.
“Not a chance to save them,” Mr. Parker answered.
“We were lucky to get out the truck.”
Driven back by the heat, Penny and her father went
to stand beside the woman in dark flannel. Thanking
them for their efforts in her behalf, she added that her
name was Mrs. Preston and that her husband was
absent.
“John went to Riverview and hasn’t come back
yet,” she said brokenly. “This is going to be a great
shock to him. All our work gone up in smoke!”
“Didn't you have the barn insured?” the editor ques-
tioned her.
“John has a small policy,” Mrs. Preston replied. “It
covers the barn, but not the melons stored inside.
...:


I6 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
the name of this disreputable organization? What is
its purpose, and the names of the men who run it?”
“I don't know any more about it than what I’ve
told you,” Mrs. Preston replied, suddenly becoming
close-lipped. “John never said much about it to me.”
“Are you afraid to tell what you know?” Mr.
Parker asked abruptly.
“It doesn't pay to do too much talking. You act
real friendly and you did me a good turn saving my
truck—but I don't even know your name.”
“Anthony Parker, owner of the Riverview Star.”
The information was anything but reassuring to the
WOman.
“You're not aiming to write up anything I’ve told
you for the paper?” she asked anxiously.
“Not unless I believe that by doing so I can expose
these night riders who have destroyed your barn.”
“Please don't print anything in the paper,” Mrs.
Preston pleaded. “It will only do harm. Those men
will turn on John harder than ever.”
Before Mr. Parker could reply, the roof of the stor-
age barn collapsed, sending up a shower of sparks and
burning brands. By this time the red glare in the sky
had attracted the attention of neighbors, and several
men came running into the yard. Realizing that he
could not hope to gain additional information from
the woman, Mr. Parker began to examine the ground
in the vicinity of the barn.


NIGHT RIDERS ' I7
“Looking for hoof tracks?” Penny asked, falling
into step beside him.
“I thought we might find some, providing the
woman told a straight story.”
“Dad, did you ever hear of an organization such as
Mrs. Preston mentioned? ” Penny inquired, her gaze on
the ground. “I mean around Riverview, of course.”
Mr. Parker shook his head. “I never did, Penny.
But if what she says is true, the Star will launch an
investigation. We’ll have no night riders in this com-
munity, not if it’s in my power to blast them out!”
“Here’s your first clue, Dad!”
Excitedly, Penny pointed to a series of hoof marks
plainly visible in the soft earth. The tracks led toward
the main road.
“Apparently Mrs. Preston told the truth about the
barn being fired by a man on horseback,” Mr. Parker
declared as he followed the trail leading out of the
yard. “These prints haven’t been made very long.”
“Dad, you look like Sherlock Holmes scooting along
with his nose to the ground!” Penny giggled. “You
should have a magnifying glass to make the picture
perfect.”
“Never mind the comedy,” her father retorted
gruflly. “This may mean a big story for the Star, not
to mention a worthwhile service to the community.”
“Oh, I’m heartily favor of your welfare work,"
Penny chuckled. “In fact, I think it would be won-


_18 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
derfully exciting to capture a night rider. Is that what
you have in mind?”
“We may as well follow this trail as far as we can.
Apparently, the fellow rode his horse just off the main
highway, heading toward Riverview.”
“Be sure you don’t follow the trail backwards,”
Penny teased. “That would absolutely ruin your rep-
utation as a detective.”
“Jump in the car and drive while I stand on the
running board,” Mr. Parker ordered, ignoring his
daughter’s attempt at wit. “Keep close to the edge of
the pavement and go slowly.”
Obeying instructions, Penny drove the car at an
even speed. Due to a recent rain which had made the
ground very soft, it was possible to follow the trail of
hoof prints without difliculty.
“We turn left here,” Mr. Parker called as they came
to a dirt road. “Speed up a bit or the tires may stick.
And watch sharp for soft places.” "
“Aye, aye, captain,” Penny laughed, thoroughly en-
joying the adventure.
Soon the car came to the entrance of a narrow,
muddy lane, and there Mr. Parker called a halt. '-
“We’ve come to the end of the trail,” he announced.
“Have the tracks ended?” Penny asked in disap-
pointment as she applied brakes. _
“Quite the contrary. They turn into this lane.”
Both Mr. Parker and his daughter gazed thought-
fully toward a small cabin which could be seen far


NIGHT RIDERS I9
back among the trees. Despite the late hour, a light
still glowed in one of the windows.
“The man who set the fire must live there!” Penny
exclaimed. “What’s our next move, Dad?”
As she spoke, the roar of a fast traveling automobile
was heard far up the road, approaching from the direc-
tion whence they had just come.
“Pull over,” Mr. Parker instructed. “And flash the
tail light. We don’t want to risk being struck.”
Barely? did Penny have time to obey before the head-
beams of the oncoming car illuminated the roadway.
But as it approached, the automobile suddenly slack-
ened speed, finally skidding to a standstill beside the
Parker sedan.
“That you, Clem Davis?” boomed a loud voice.
“Stand where you are, and don’t make any false
moves!”
I


w -
c\" W.
* | -
&
sold OOD
A BLACK H W.
eru. gr. Parker said evenly
"GooDEven NG,sheriff"M"'s ""
as he recognized the heavy-set ma Ve tou've mistaken me
a county automobile. “I'm afraid yū.
for someone else this time.” |
Sheriff Daniels put away his revd
into the beam of light.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Thought X-
Clem Davis, and I wasn't taking any chanë -
Parker of the Riverview Star?” -
“That's right,” agreed the editor, “Loo!\
Clem Davis?” -
“I’m here to question him. I'm investigating
which was set at the Preston place.”
marked. “My daughter and I just left the Presto:
farm, and we didn't see you there. What put you oil.
Uavis’ trail?” -
“Our officer received an anonymous telephone call
from a woman. She reported the fire and said that I'd
find my man here.” -
2O


-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - ----------------- –---
A BLACK Hood 2 I
“Could it have been Mrs. Preston who notified
you?” Mr. Parker inquired thoughtfully. -
“It wasn’t Mrs. Preston,” answered the sheriff. “I
traced the call to the Riverview exchange. Thought
it must be the trick of a crank until our office got a re-
port that a fire actually had been set at the Preston
farm. By the way, what are you doing around here,
Parker?”
“Oh, just prowling,” the editor replied, and ex-
plained briefly how he and Penny had chanced to be
- at the scene of the fire.
* “If you followed a horseman to this lane there may
e?' be something to that anonymous telephone call,” the
sheriff declared. “I’ll look around, and then have a
talk with Davis.”
“Mind if we accompany you?” inquired Mr. Parker.
“Come along,” the sheriff invited.
Penny was hard pressed to keep step with the two
men as they strode down the muddy lane. A light
glowed in the window of the cabin, and a woman
could be seen sitting at a table. The sheriff, however,
circled the house. Following the trail of hoof marks
he went directly to the stable, quietly opening the
double doors. -
* Once inside, Sheriff Daniels switched on a flashlight.
The bright beam revealed six stalls, all empty save one,
in which stood a handsome black mare who tugged
restlessly at her tether. Her body was covered with
call sweat, and she shivered.
f I’d
A


22 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“This horse has been ridden hard,” the sheriff ob-
served, reaching to throw a blanket over her.
“Here's something interesting,” commented Mr.
Parker. Stooping, he picked up a dark piece of cloth
lying in plain view on the cement floor. It had been
sewed in the shape of a headgear, with eye holes cut
in the front side.
“A black hood!” Penny shouted in awe.
Sheriff Daniels took the cloth from the editor, ex-
amining it closely but saying very little.
“Ever hear of any night riders in this community?”
Mr. Parker asked after a moment, his tone casual.
“Never did,” the sheriff replied emphatically.
“And I sure hope such a story doesn't get started.”
Mr. Parker fingered the black mask. “All the same,
Sheriff, you can’t just laugh off a thing like this. Even
if the November elections aren't far away—”
“I’m not worried about my job,” the other broke in.
“So far as I know there's no underground organization
in this county. All this mask proves is that Clem
Davis may be the man who set the Preston fire.”
The officer turned to leave the stable. Before he
could reach the exit, the double doors slowly opened.
A woman, who carried a lighted lantern, peered inside.
“Who’s there?” she called in a loud voice.
“Sheriff Daniels, ma'am,” the officer answered.
“You needn’t be afraid.”
“Who said anything about bein’ afraid?” the woman
belligerently retorted.


----- - - - --- ~~~~~ *-*-e---> --> --"
A BLACK HOOD 23
Coming into the stable, she gazed with undisguised
suspicion from one person to another. She was no-
ticeably thin, slightly stooped and there was a hard set
to her jaw.
“You're Mrs. Davis?” the sheriff inquired, and as
she nodded, he asked: “Clem around here?”
“No, he ain’t,” she answered defiantly. “What you
wanting him for anyhow?” \
“Oh, just to ask a few questions. Where is your
husband, Mrs. Davis?” *
“He went to town early and ain't been back. What
you aimin’ to lay onto him, Sheriff?”
“If your husband hasn't been here since early eve-
ning, who has ridden this horse?” the sheriff de-
manded, ignoring the question.
Mrs. Davis’ gaze roved to the stall where the black
mare noisily crunched an ear of corn.
“Why Sal has been rid!” she exclaimed as if genu-
inely surprised. “But not by Clem. He went to town
in the flivver, and he ain’t been back.”
“Sorry, but I’ll have to take a look in the house.”
“Search it from cellar to attic!” the woman said an-
grily. “You won't find Clem! What's he wanted for
anyway?” -
“The Preston barn was set afire tonight, and your
husband is a suspect.”
“Clem never did it! Why, the Prestons are good
friends of ours! Somebody's just tryin' to make a
peck o’ trouble for us.”


24 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN/
“That may be,” the sheriff admitted. “You say
Clem hasn't been here tonight. In that case, who rode
the mare?”
“I don't know anything about it,” the woman main-
tained sullenly.
“Didn't you hear a horse come into the yard?”
“I never heard a sound until your car stopped at the
entrance to the lane.”
“I suppose you never saw this before either.” The
sheriff held up the black hood which had been found
in the barn.
Mrs. Davis stared blankly at the cloth. “I tell you,
I don't know nothin about it, Sheriff. You ain't being
fair if you try to hang that fire onto Clem. And you
won’t find him hidin’ in the house.”
“If your husband isn't here, I'll wait until he comes.”
“You may have a long wait, Sheriff,” the woman
retorted, her lips parting in a twisted smile. “You can
come in though and look around.”
Not caring to follow the sheriff into the house,
Penny and her father bade him goodbye a moment
later. Tramping down the lane to their parked car,
they both expressed the belief that Clem Davis would
not be arrested during the night.
“Obviously, the woman knows a lot more than she's .
willing to tell,” Mr. Parker remarked, sliding into the
car seat beside Penny.
“Dad, do you think it was Clem who set fire to the
Preston barn?”


------------> --> -->======-
A BLACK HOOD 25
“We have no reason to suspect anyone else,” re--
turned the editor. “All the evidence points to his
guilt.”
Penny backed the car in the narrow road, heading
toward Riverview.
“That was the point I wanted to make,” she said
thoughtfully. “Doesn't it seem to you that the evi-
dence was almost too plain?”
“What do you mean, Penny?”
“Well, I was just thinking, if I had been in Clem
Davis' place, I never would have left a black hood ly-
ing where the first person to enter the barn would be
sure to see it.”
“That's so, it was a bit obvious,” Mr. Parker ad-
mitted.
“The horse was left in the stable, and the hoof tracks
leading to the Davis place were easy to follow.”
“All true,” Mr. Parker nodded.
“Isn't it possible that someone could have tried to
throw the blame on Clem?” suggested Penny, anx-
iously awaiting her father's reply.
“There may be something to the theory,” Mr.
Parker responded. “Still, Mrs. Davis didn't deny that
the mare belonged to her husband. She claimed that
she hadn’t heard the horse come into the stable, which
obviously was a lie. Furthermore, I gathered the im-
pression that Clem knew the sheriff was after him, and
intends to hide out.”
“It will be interesting to learn if Mr. Daniels makes


26 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
an arrest. Do you expect to print anything about it in
the paper?”
“Only routine news of the fire,” Mr. Parker replied.
“There may be much more to this little incident than
appears on the surface, but until something develops,
we must wait.”
“If you could gain proof that night riders are oper-
ating in this community, what then?” Penny suggested
eagerly.
“In that case, I should certainlylaunch a vigorous
campaign. But why go into all the details now? I’m
sure I’ll not assign you to the story.”
“Why not?” Penny asked in an injured tone. “I
think night riders would be especially suited to my
journalistic talents. I could gather information about
Clem Davis and the Prestons--”
“This is Sheriff Daniel’s baby, and we’ll let him take
care of it for the time being,” Mr. Parker interrupted.
“Why not devote yourself to the great mystery of the
Hubell clock? That should provide a safe outlook
for your energies.”
The car was drawing close to Riverview. As it
approached the tall stone tower, Penny raised her eyes
to the dark windows. Just then the big clock struck
twice.
“Two o’clock,” Mr. Parker observed, taking a quick
glance at his watch. “Or would you say three?”
“There’s no argument about it this time, Dad. All
the same, I intend to prove to you that I was right!”
I


**- - - - -
- *-*--------------- ------
A BLACK HOOD 27
“How?” her father asked, covering a wide yawn.
“I don't know,” Penny admitted, favoring the grim
tower with a dark scowl. “But just you wait—I'll
find a way!”


CHAPTER
I
= 4-
A NEW CARETAKER
“I DECLARE, getting folks up becomes a harder task
each morning,” declared Mrs. Maud Weems, who had
served as the Parker housekeeper for eleven years, as
she brought a platter of bacon and eggs to the break-
fast table. “I call and call until I’m fairly hoarse, and
all I get in response is a few sleepy mutters and mum-
bles. The food is stone cold.”
“It’s good all the same,” praised Penny, pouring her-
self a large-size glass of orange juice. “There’s not a
woman in Riverview who can equal your cooking.”
“I’m in no mood for blarney this morning,” the
housekeeper warned. “I must say quite frankly that I
don’t approve of the irregular hours in this house.”
“Penny and I did get in a little late last night,” Mr.
Parker admitted, winking at his daughter.
“A little late! It must have been at least four
o’clock when you came in. Oh, I heard you tiptoe up
the stairs even if you did take off your shoes!”
“It was only a few minutes after two,” Penny cor-
28


A NEw CARETAKER 3 I
- - -"-----------------------> -------
Penny held open the garage doors, watching as her
father backed down the driveway, scraping the bark
of a tree whose gnarled trunk already bore many scars.
Before she could reenter the house, Louise Sidell, a
dark-haired, slightly plump girl, who was Penny's
most loyal friend, sauntered into the yard.
“Hi!” she greeted cheerily. “About ready?”
“Ready for what?” Penny asked, her face blank.
Louise regarded her indignantly. “If that isn't just
like you, Penny Parker! You make promises and then
forget them. Don't you remember telling Mrs. Van
Cleve of the Woman's Club that we would help sell
tags today, for the Orphans' Home summer camp?”
“Now that you remind me, I have a vague recollec-
tion. How many are we to sell?”
“Twenty-five at not less than a quarter each. I have
the tags, but we'll have to work fast or the other girls
will sell all the easy customers.”
“I’ll be with you in two shakes,” Penny promised,
heading for the house. “Wait until I tell Mrs. Weems
where I am going.”
Returning a moment later with the car ignition keys,
she found Louise staring disconsolately at the empty
space in the garage. -
“What became of your new car?” asked her chum.
“Dad's auto is in the garage for repairs,” Penny ex-
plained briefly. “I didn't have the heart to make him
walk.”
“I should think not!” laughed Louise. “Imagine


34 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
~'I|
building with results which were still the talk of River-
view. Another time they had attended a society wed-
ding on an island guarded by a drawbridge, and had
ended by using the drawbridge as a means of capturing
a boatload of crooks; In fact, Louise took delight in
remarking that if ever her chum chose to write an
autobiography, a suitable title would be: “Life with
Penelope Parker: Never a Dull Moment.”
“What’s up now, Penny?” she inquired, as they
rattled toward the Hubell Tower in Leaping Lena.
“Just a little argument I had with Dad last night. I
maintain that the big clock struck thirteen last night at
midnight. He thinks I’m a wee bit touched in the
head.”
“Which you must be,” retorted Louise. “Who ever
heard of such a thing?”
“What’s so crazy about it?” Penny asked with a
grimace. “Didn’t you ever hear a clock strike the
wrong number?”
\“Of course, but not the Hubell clock. Why, the
works were purchased in Europe, and it’s supposed to
be one of the best in the country.”
“Even a good clock can make a mistake, I guess.
Anyway, we’ll see what Seth McGuire has to say about
it.”
Penny brought Leaping Lena to a quivering halt
opposltethe tall Hubell Tower. Glancing upward
at the oqtagonical-shaped clock face, she saw that the
hands indicated twenty minutes to twelve.
— M 1_|


36 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“ . I 7,
McGuire s not here any more, he informed curtly.
“You’ll probably find him at his farm.”
Before the man could close the door, Penny quickly
asked if Mr. McGuire had given up his position as
caretaker because of sickness.
“Oh, he was getting too old to do his work,” the
man answered with a shrug. “I’m Charley Phelps, the
new attendant. Visiting hours are from two to four
each afternoon.”
“We didn’t come to see the clock,” persisted Penny.
“What did bring you here then?” the man de-
manded gruflly. “You a personal friend of _Seth’s?”
“Not exactly.” Penny peered beyond the caretaker
into an untidy living room clouded with tobacco
smoke. “We thought we might sell him one of these
tags. Perhaps you would like to contribute to the
orphans’ camp fund?” -
She extended the bit of yellow cardboard, bestowing
upon the attendant one of her most dazzling smiles.
“No, thanks, Sister,” he declined, refusing to take
the tag. “You’ll have to peddle your wares somewhere
else.”
“Only twenty-five cents.”
“I’m not interested. Now run along and give me a
chance to eat my lunch in peace.”
“Sorry to have bothered you,” Penny apologized
woodenly. Without moving from the door, she in-
quired: “Oh, by the way, what happened to the clock
last night?”


CHAPTER
5
OLD SETH
“WELL, PENNY, you certainly drew lightning that
time,” Louise remarked dryly as the girls retreated to
Leaping Lena. “I thought Mr. Phelps was going to
throw the tower at you!”
“How could I know he was so touchy?” Penny
asked in a grieved tone.
“You did talk as if you thought he had been careless
in taking care of the big clock.”
“I never meant it that way, Lou. Anyway, he could
have been more polite.”
Jerking open the car door, Penny slid behind the
steering wheel and jammed her foot on the starter.
Leaping Lena, apparently realizing that her young
mistress was in no mood for trifling, responded with
instantaneous action. | -
“I guess you're satisfied now that the clock never
struck thirteen,” Louise teased as the car fairly leaped
forward.
“I should say not!” Penny retorted. “Why, I'm
more convinced than ever that something went wrong
38


40 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
Penny slammed on the brakes and Leaping Lena
responded by shivering in every one of her ancient
joints. Louise was thrown forward, barely catching
herself in time to prevent a collision with the wind-
shield.
“Why don't you join a stunt circus?” she said ir-
ritably. “You drive like Demon Dan!”
“We're here,” replied Penny cheerfully. “Nice
looking place, isn't it?”
The car had pulled up near a small, neatly-kept
cottage framed in well-trimmed greenery. An even,
rich green lawn was highlighted here and there by
beds of bright red and blue flowers.
After admiring the grounds, the girls rang the front
bell. Receiving no response, they went around to the
rear, pounding on the kitchen screen door.
“Mr. McGuire's not here,” said Louise. “Just
another wild goose chase.” -
“Let's try this out-building,” Penny suggested, in-
dicating a long, low structure made of cement build-
ing blocks which was roofed with tin. A sign dangling
above the door proclaimed that it was the foundry and
machine shop of one Seth McGuire, maker of bells
and clocks.
As the girls peered through the open door an ar-
resting sight met their gaze. Through clouds of smoke
they saw a spry old man directing the movements of
a muscular youth who pulled a large pot-shaped
crucible of molten metal on an overhead pulley track.


OLD SETH 4 I
- - - - - -----------> ------------~~~~~~ -
"Are you Seth McGuire?” Penny shouted to make
herself heard above the noise of running machinery.
The old man, turning his head, waved them back.
“Don’t come in here now!” he warned. “It’s dan-
gerous. Wait until we pour the bell.”
With deft, sure hands, the old fellow pulled control
chains attached to the crucible. The container twisted
and finally overturned, allowing the molten metal to
pour into a bell-shaped mold. As the last drops ran
out of it, a great cloud of steam arose, enveloping both
the old man and his helper.
“Won't they be burned?” Louise murmured in
alarm, moving hastily backwards.
“Mr. McGuire seems to know what he's doing,”
Penny answered, watching with interest.
In a moment the steam cleared away, and the old
man motioned that the girls might come inside.
“You’ll have to excuse my manners,” he apologized,
his mild blue eyes regarding them with a twinkle.
“Pouring a bell is exacting work and you can't stop
until it's done.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Penny inquired,
staring at the steaming mass which had been poured
into the mold. “It's sort of like making a gelatin pud-
ding, isn't it?” -
“Jake and me never thought of it that way,” the
old man replied. “I learned from an old Swiss bell
maker when I was a lad. And I apprenticed under a
master, you may be sure of that.”


OLD SETH 43
upon diameter, and timbre upon the shape and the
alloy used.” -
“I never realized there was much to a bell besides
its ding-dong,” commented Penny. “But tell me,
Mr. McGuire, do you find this work more interesting
than taking care of the Clock Tower?”
“Looking after that place wasn't work. It was more
like a rest cure. I took the job because, twelve years
ago when the tower went up, they couldn't find a
competent man to look after the clock.”
“And now you’ve gone back to your old trade?”
“Oh, I liked it at the tower,” Old Seth admitted
truthfully. “I’m a bit old to do heavy work such as
this. More than likely I’d have gone on putting in my
time if Mr. Blake hadn't wanted the job for a friend of
his.” -
“Mr. Blake?” Penny inquired thoughtfully. “Do
you mean Clyde Blake, the real estate man?”
The old bell maker nodded as he gazed moodily out
the window toward the distant tower which could be
seen outlined against the blue sky.
“Yes, it was Blake that eased me out of that job.
He has a lot of influence and he uses it in ways some
might say isn't always proper. I can make a fair living
as long as I have my health, so I'm not complaining.”
“We met the new caretaker this morning,” Penny
said after a moment. “He wasn't very polite to us, and
the grounds have gone to wrack and ruin.”


44. THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“Did you notice the flower beds?” Old Seth asked,
feeling creeping into his voice. “Half choked with
weeds. Charley Phelps hasn't turned a hand since he
took over there six weeks ago.”
“I suppose he spends most of his time looking after
the big clock,” Penny remarked, deliberately leading
the old man deeper.
“Charley Phelps spends most of his hours smoking
that vile pipe of his and entertaining his roustabout
friends,” Old Seth snapped. “He doesn't know as
much as a child about complicated clock machinery.
What he can't take care of with an oil can goes un-
repaired!” -
The conversation had moved in exactly the channel
which Penny desired.
“No doubt that explains why the clock hasn't always
been striking right of late,” she said in an offhand way.
“Last night I was almost sure I heard it strike thirteen
instead of twelve times. In fact, I had a little argu-
ment with my father about it.”
“You were correct,” the old man assured her. “I
was working late here in the shop and heard it myself.”
“There! You see, Louise!” Penny cried triumph-
antly, turning to her chum.
“Mr. McGuire, what would cause the clock to strike
wrong?” the other asked.
“I was wondering myself,” he admitted. “In all
the ten years I was at the tower, it never once struck
an incorrect hour. I think that there must have


OLD SETH 45
been something wrong with the striking train.”
“Pardon my ignorance,” laughed Penny, “but what
in the world is the striking train?” -
“Oh, we apply that name to the center section of
the mechanism which operates the clock. The going
train drives the hands, while the quarter train chimes
the quarter-hours, sounding four tuned bells.”
“Just as clear as mud,” sighed Louise who dis-
liked all mechanical things. “Does the clock strike
wrong every night?”
“Last night was the first time I ever heard it add
a stroke,” Mr. McGuire answered. “I’ll be listening
though, to see if Phelps gets it fixed.”
Penny and Louise had accomplished the purpose
of their trip, and so, after looking about the shop for a
few minutes, left without trying to sell the old man a
camp-benefit tag.
“Why didn't you ask him to take one?” Louise asked
as she and her chum climbed into the parked car.
“Oh, I don't know,” Penny answered uncom-
fortably. “It just came over me that Old Seth prob-
ably doesn't have much money now that he's out of
steady work.” -
“He must make quite a lot from his bells.”
“But how often does he get an order?” Penny specu-
lated. “I’d guess not once in three months, if that
often. It's a pity Mr. Blake had to push Mr. McGuire
out of the tower job.”
Louise nodded agreement, and then with a quick


46 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
change of subject, reminded her chum that they had
had no lunch.
“It's too late to go home,” said Penny, who had
other plans. “I’ll treat you to one of the biggest
hamburger sandwiches you ever wrapped your teeth
around! How's that?”
“I’ll take anything so long as you pay for it,” Louise
agreed with a laugh.
Driving on to Toni's, the girls lunched there with-
out incident, and then started for Riverview by a
different route.
“Say, where are you taking me anyway?” Louise
demanded suspiciously. “I’ve never been on this road
before.”
“Only out to the Davis farm,” Penny responded
with a grin. “We have a little detective work to do.”
During the bumpy ride, she gave her chum a vivid
account of the adventure she had shared with her father
the previous night.
“And just what do you expect to learn?” Louise
inquired at the conclusion of the tale. “Are we ex-
pected to capture Clem Davis with our bare hands
and turn him over to the authorities?”
“Nothing quite so startling. I thought possibly Mrs.
Davis might talk with us. She seemed to know a lot.
more about the fire than she would tell.”
“I don't mind tagging along,” Louise consented
reluctantly. “It doesn't seem likely, though, that the
woman will break down and implicate her husband


50 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
though he actually did set fire to the Preston barn.”
“Clem would be a fool to give himself up now!
Why, they'd be sure to hang the fire onto him, even
though he wasn't within a mile of the Preston place.”
“Then couldn't he prove it?”
“Not a chance,” the woman said with a short, hard
laugh. “Clem was framed. He never rode the horse
last night, and that black hood was planted in the
stable.”
“Does your husband have any enemies?”
“Sure, he's got plenty of 'em.”
“Then perhaps you can name a person who might
have tried to throw blame on your husband.”
“I could tell plenty if I was a mind to,” the woman
said significantly. “I'd do it in a minute, only it
would make things worse for Clem.”
Penny started to reply, then remained silent as she
saw that Mrs. Davis’ gaze had focused upon a section
of cornfield which fringed the melon patch. The tall
stalks were waving in an agitated manner, suggesting
that someone might be moving among them.
“Here are your melons,” Mrs. Davis said nervously,
thrusting three large ones into Penny's hands. “That
will be a quarter.”
As the girl paid her, she abruptly turned and hur-
ried toward the house.
“Just a minute, Mrs. Davis,”Penny called. “If you'll
only talk to me I may be able to help your husband.”
The woman heard but paid no heed. Picking up
--->


52 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
sound to guide her. Wandering aimlessly first in one
direction, then another, she soon became hopelessly
lost. /
“Penny!” she shouted frantically.
“Here!” called a voice not far away.
Tracing the sound, and making repeated calls,
Louise finally came face to face with her chum.
“Such a commotion as you've been making,” chided
Penny. “Not a chance to catch that fellow now!”
“I don't care,” Louise retorted crossly. Her hair
was disarranged, stockings matted with burs. “If we
can get out of this dreadful maze I want to go to the
car.”
“We're at the edge of the field. Follow me and I'll
pilot you to safety.”
Emerging a minute later at the end of the corn row,
Penny saw the stable only a few yards away. Im-
pulsively, she proposed to Louise that they investigate
it for possible clues.
“I’ve had enough detective work for one day,” her
chum complained. “Anyway, what do you hope to
discover in an old barn?”
“Maybe I can induce the horse to talk,” Penny
chuckled. “Sal must know all the answers, if only she
could speak.” -
“You’ll have to give her the third degree by your-
self,” Louise decided with finality. “I shall go to the
car.”
*


TALL CORN 53
- - - - ------------------------~~~~
Taking the melons with her, she marched stiffly
down the lane and climbed into Leaping Lena. Care-
fully she rearranged her hair, plucked burs, and then
grew impatient because her chum did not come. Fully
twenty minutes elapsed before Penny emerged from
the stable.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Lou,” she
apologized as she reached the car. “See what I found!”
Penny held up a bright silver object which resembled
a locket, save that it was smaller.
“What is it?” Louise inquired with interest.
“A man's watch charm! It has a picture inside too
With her fingernail, Penny pried open the lid.
Flat against the cover had been fastened the photo-
graph of a boy who might have been ten or twelve
years of age.
“Where did you get it, Penny?”
“I found it lying on the barn floor, not far from
the place where we picked up the black hood last
night.”
“Then it must belong to Clem Davis!”
“It may,” Penny admitted, sliding into the seat be-
side her chum. “Still, I don’t believe the Davis have
any children.” -
“What will you do with the charm? Turn it over
to the sheriff?”
“I suppose I should, after I’ve shown it to Dad,”
Penny replied, carefully tying the trinket into the
I??


54 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
corner of a handkerchief. “You know, Lou, since
finding this, I wonder if Mrs. Davis may not have told
the truth.”
“About what, Penny?”
“She said that her husband had been framed.”
“Then you think this watch charm was left in the
barn to throw suspicion upon Clem Davis!”
Penny shook her head. “No, this is my theory,
Louise. Perhaps someone hid the black hood there,
and rode Clem's horse to make it appear he was the
guilty person. Inadvertently, that same person lost
this watch charm.”
“In that case, you would have a clue which might
solve the case.”
“Exactly,” Penny grinned in triumph. “Get ready
for a fast ride into town. I'm going to rush this evi-
dence straight to the Star office and get Dad's opinion.”


CHAPTER
7
MR. BLAKE'S DONATION
NOT WISHING to ride to the Star building, Louise
asked her chum to drop her off at the Sidell home.
Accordingly, Penny left her there, and then drove on
alone to her father's office. The news room hummed
with activity as she sauntered through to the private
office.
“Just a minute, please,” her father requested, waving
her into a chair.
He completed a letter he was dictating, dismissed his
secretary, and then was ready to listen. Without pre-
liminary ado, Penny laid the watch charm on the desk,
explaining where she had found it.
“Dad, this may belong to Clem Davis, but I don't
think so!” she announced in an excited voice. “It's
my theory that the person who planted the black hood
in the stable must have lost it!”
Mr. Parker examined the charm carefully, gazing at
the picture of the little boy contained within it.
“Very interesting,” he commented. “However, I
fear you are allowing your imagination to take you
55


56 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
for a ride. There isn't much question of Clem Davis'
guilt according to the findings of the sheriff.”
“Has any new evidence come to light, Dad?”
“Yes, Penny, the sheriff's office has gained posses-
sion of a document showing beyond question that
Clem Davis is a member of a renegade band known
as the Black Hoods.”
“Where did they get their proof?”
“Sheriff Davis won’t disclose the source of his in-
formation. However, our star reporter, Jerry Liv-
ingston, is working on the case, and something may
develop any hour.”
“Then you're intending to make it into a big story?”
Penny asked thoughtfully.
“I am. An underground, subversive organization,
no matter what its purpose, has no right to an exist-
ence. The Star will expose the leaders, if possible,
and break up the group.”
“Since the Hoods apparently burned the Preston
storage barn, their purpose can't be a very noble one,”
Penny commented. “Nor are their leaders especially
clever. The trail led as plain as day to Clem Davis—
so straight, in fact, that I couldn't help doubting his
guilt.”
“Penny, I'll keep this watch charm, if you don't
mind,” Mr. Parker said, locking the trinket into a
drawer. “I’ll put Jerry to work on it and he may be
able to learn the identity of the little boy in the pic-
ture.”


MR. BLAKE's DoNATION 57
Abruptly changing the subject, the editor inquired
regarding his daughter's success in selling Camp-Benefit
tags.
“I have only one left,” Penny replied, presenting it
with a flourish. “Twenty-five cents, please.”
“The cause is a worthy one. I'll double the
amount.” Amiably, Mr. Parker flipped a half dollar
across the desk.
“While you're in a giving mood I might mention
that my allowance is due,” Penny said with a grin.
“Also, you owe me five gallons of gasoline. I saw
old Seth McGuire this morning and he agreed with
me that the Hubell clock struck thirteen last night.”
Mr. Parker had no opportunity to reply, for just
then his secretary re-entered the office to say that Mr.
Clyde Blake wished to see him.
“I suppose that means you want me to evaporate,”
Penny remarked, gazing questioningly at her father.
“No, stay if you like. It's probably nothing of con-
sequence.” -
Penny welcomed an invitation to remain. After
her talk with Seth McGuire she was curious to see the
man who had caused the old bell maker to lose his
position at the Hubell Tower.
“Blake probably wants to ask me to do him a per-
sonal favor,” Mr. Parker confided in a low tone. “He’s
a pest!”
In a moment the door opened again to admit the
real estate man. He was heavy-set, immaculately


58 THE CLock strikes THIRTEEN
dressed, and the only defect in his appearance was
caused by a right arm which was somewhat shorter
than the left.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker,” he said expansively.
“And is this your charming daughter?”
The editor introduced Penny, who bowed politely
and retreated to a chair by the window. Prejudiced
against Mr. Blake, she had no desire to talk to him.
“What may I do for you?” Mr. Parker asked the
caller.
“Ah, this time it is I who shall bestow the favor,”
Mr. Blake responded, taking a cheque book from his
pocket. “Your paper has been campaigning for a
very worthy cause, namely the Orphans' Summer
Camp Fund. It wrings my heart that those unfor-
tunate kiddies have been denied the benefit of fresh
air and sunshine.”
“If you wish to make a donation, you should give
your money to Mrs. Van Cleve,” the editor cut him
short.
“I much prefer to present my cheque to you,” the
caller insisted. “Shall I make it out for a hundred and
fifty dollars?”
“That's a very handsome donation,” said Mr. Parker,
unable to hide his surprise. “But why give it to me?”
Mr. Blake coughed in embarrassment. “I thought
you might deem the offering worthy of a brief men-
tion in your paper.”
“Oh, I see,” the editor responded dryly.
. *


i MR. m.AK1~:’s DONATION 59
H
I don’t wish publicity for myself, you understand,
but only for the real estate company which bears my
name.”
“I quite understand, Mr. Blake. If we should use
your picture—”
“That will be very acceptable,” the real estate man
responded, smiling with satisfaction. “I’ll be happy
to oblige you by posing.”
Helping himself to a pen, he wrote out the cheque
and presented it to the editor.
“Penny, how would you like to write the story?”
inquired her father. “You’ve been helping Miss Nor-
ton with the publicity, I believe.”
“I’m rather bogged down with work,” Penny de-
murred. “I think Mrs. Weems wants me to clean the
attic when I get home.”
“Never mind the attic. Please conduct Mr. Blake to
the photography room and ask one of the boys to take
his picture.”
Penny arose obediently, but as the real estate man
left the office ahead of her, she shot her father a black
look. She considered a publicity story very trivial
indeed, and it particularly displeased her that she must
write honeyed words about a man she did not admire.
“You have a very nice building here, very nice,”
Mr. Blake patronizingly remarked as he was escorted
toward the photographic department. Noticing a pile
of freshly printed newspapers lying on one of the
desks, he helped himself to a copy.


MR. BLAKE’S DONATION 61
photographic room. While Mr. Blake wandered
about, inspecting the various equipment, she relayed
her father’s instructions to Salt Sommers, one of the
staff photographers. _
“Better get a good picture of Blake,” she warned
him. “He’ll be irritated if you don’t.”
“I’ll do my best,” Salt promised, “but I can’t make
over a man’s face.”
Mr. Blake proved to be a trying subject. Posed on
a stool in front of a screen, he immediately “froze”
into a stiff position.
“Be sure to make it only a head and shoulders pic-
ture, if you please,” he ordered Salt.
'“Can’t you relax?” the photographer asked wearily.
“Unloosen your face. Think of all those little orphans
you’re going to make happy.”
Mr. Blake responded with a smirk which was pain-
ful to behold. Nothing that Salt could say or do
caused him to become natural, and at length the
photographer took two shots which he knew would
not be satisfactory. '
“That’ll be all,” he announced.
Mr. Blake arose, drawing a deep sigh. “Posing is
a great ordeal for me,” he confessed. “I seldom con-
sent to having my picture taken, but this is a very
special occasion.”
Completely at ease again, the real estate man began
to converse with Penny. In sudden inspiration, Salt
seized a candid camera from a glass case, and before


62 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
Mr. Blake was aware of his act, snapped. a picture.
“There, that’s more like it,” he said. “I caught you
just right, Mr. Blake.”
The real estate man turned swiftly, his eyes blazing
anger.
“You dared to take a picture without my permis-
sion?” he demanded. “I’ll not have it! Destroy the
' film at once or I shall protest to Mr. Parker!”
1
I
1
_ ___ IA II ____ _ . . I
I... I


PUBLICITY BY PENNY 65
“What's the big idea, Penny?”
“Oh, just a hunch, I guess. Someday the paper may
want a picture of Blake in a hurry, and this one would
serve very nicely.”
Aware that time was fast slipping away, Penny re-
turned to her father's office to report Mr. Blake's
strange action. Mr. Parker, well versed in the peculi-
arities of newspaper patrons, shrugged indifferently.
“Blake always was a queer fellow,” he commented,
fingering the cheque which still lay on his desk. “I
never trusted him, and I wish I hadn't accepted this
money.” -
“How could you have refused, Dad?”
“I couldn't very well. All the same, I have a feeling
I'll regret it.” -
“Why do you say that?” Penny asked curiously.
“No reason perhaps. Only Blake isn't the man to
give something for nothing. He aims to profit by this
affair, or I'm no judge of human nature.”
“He craves publicity, that's certain.” -
“Yes, but there's more to it than that,” Mr. Parker
declared. “Oh, well”—he dismissed the subject, “I’ll
turn the cheque over to the camp committee and let
someone else do the worrying.”
“I’ll tell you why I dislike Mr. Blake,” Penny said
with feeling. “He caused Seth McGuire to lose his job
at the Hubell Tower.” -
“That so?” the editor asked in surprise. “I hadn't
heard about it.”


66 THE cnocx stances THIRTEEN
H
Blake gave the position to a special friend of his.
Can’t you do something about it, Dad?” .
“I don’t know any of the basic facts, Penny. Why
should I interfere in a matter which is none of my
affair?” .
“At least let’s not give Mr. Blake a big build-up be-
cause of his donation.”
“The story must be written,” Mr. Parker said with
finality. “I always keep a bargain, even a bad one.”
“Then youimight write the story,” Penny proposed
mischievously. “I can’t spell such a big word as
hypocrite! ”
“Never mind,” Mr. Parker reproved. “Just get busy
and see that you handle the article in a way favorable
to Blake.”
With a deep sigh, Penny took herself to the adjoin-
ing newsroom. Selecting a typewriter, she peeked
listlessly at the keys. Presently Jerry Livingston, one
of the reporters, fired a paper ball at her.
“Your story must be a masterpiece,” he teased. “It’s
taken you long enough to write it.”
Penny jerked the sheet of copy from the typewriter
roller. “It’s not fair,” she complained. “I have to dish
out soft soap while you handle all the interesting
stories. There should be a law against it.”
“Learn to take the bitter along with the whipped
cream,” chuckled Jerry. “I’ve also just been handed
an assignment that’s not to my liking.”
“Covering the Preston fire, I suppose.”


PUBLICITY BY PENNY 67
“Nothing that spectacular. DeWitt’s sending me
out to the Riverview Orphans’ Home to dig up human
interest material in connection with the camp-fund
campaign. Want to ride along as ballast?”
“Well, I don’t know?” Penny debated. “I’ve had
almost enough of publicity stories for one day.”
“Oh, come on,” Jerry coaxed, taking her by the arm.
“You can talk to the orphans and maybe turn up a lot
of interesting facts.”
“For you to write,” she added ruefully. “Just a
Sister Friday—that’s my fate in this office.”
Actually Penny welcomed an opportunity to ac-
company Jerry, for she liked him better than any
young man of her acquaintance. Spearing the story
she had just written on the copy desk spindle, she fol-
lowed the reporter to the parking lot. Jerry helped
her into one of the press cars, and they expertly drove
through heavy downtown traflic.
“What’s the latest on the Preston case?” Penny in-
quired, clutching her hat to keep it from blowing out
the window.
“No latest,” Jerry answered briefly. “The Prestons
won’t talk, Mrs. Davis won’t talk, the sheriff won’t
talk. So far it totals up to one little story about a fire.”
“Dad said the sheriff had learned Clem Davis was
a member of a secret organization, probably known as
the Black Hoods.”
“Sheriff Daniels claims he has documentary proof,”
Jerry admitted. “He won’t produce it though, and I


68 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
have a sneaking suspicion that he may be bluffing.”
“Then you think he wants to convict Clem Davis
whether or not he's guilty?”
“He wants to end the case just as quickly as he can,
Penny. The November elections aren't far away. If
this night rider story gets a start, the dear public might
turn on him, demanding action or his job.”
“Do you think there actually is such an organization
as the Black Hoods, Jerry?”
“I do,” he returned soberly. “After talking with the
Prestons and Mrs. Davis, I'm convinced they could tell
quite a bit about it if they were willing to furnish evi-
dence.”
It pleased Penny that Jerry's opinion so nearly co-
incided with her own. Eagerly she told him of her
own talk with Mrs. Davis, mentioning that someone
had been hiding in the cornfield near the cabin.
“What time was that?” Jerry asked, stopping the
car at a traffic light.
“Shortly after twelve o'clock.”
“Then it couldn’t have been Sheriff Daniels or his
deputies,” the reporter declared. “I was at the county
office talking to them about that same time.”
“It might have been Clem Davis,” Penny suggested.
“I’m sure his wife knows where he is hiding.”
As the car sped over the country road, she kept the
discussion alive by mentioning the watch charm which
she had picked up at the Davis stable. Jerry had not
seen the picture of the little boy, but promised to in-


PUBLICITY BY PENNY 69
spect it just as soon as he returned to the Star offices.
“Clem Davis has no children,” he assured Penny, “so
it's unlikely the charm ever belonged to him. You
may have found an important clue.”
“I only wish Dad would officially assign me to the
story,” she grumbled. “He never will, though.”
Presently the car approached the Riverview Or-
phans' Home, a large brick building set back some dis-
tance from the road. Children in drab blue uniforms
could be seen playing in the front yard, supervised by
a woman official.
“Poor kids,” Jerry said with honest feeling, “you
can't help feeling sorry for 'em. They deserve the
best summer camp this town can provide.”
“The project is certain to be possible now,” Penny
replied. “Mr. Blake's cheque put the campaign over
the top.”
Jerry gave the steering wheel an expert flip, turning
the car into the private road.
“Don’t tell me that old bird actually parted with any
money!” -
“Oh, he did, Jerry. He donated a cheque for a
hundred and fifty dollars.”
“And no strings attached?”
“Well, he hinted that he wanted a nice write-up
about himself. I was torturing myself with the story
when you interrupted.”
“It's mighty queer,” the reporter muttered. “Leop-
ards don't change their spots. Blake must expect
*


7o THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
something more tangible than publicity out of the
deal.”
His mind centering on what Penny had just told
him, Jerry gave no thought to his driving. Handling
the steering wheel skillfully, but automatically, he
whirled the car into the play area of the institution,
drawing up with a loud screeching of brakes.
Uncertain that the reporter could stop, the children
scattered in all directions. One little girl remained
squarely in front of the car. Covering her face with
her hands, she began to scream.
“Gosh all fish hooks!” Jerry exclaimed in dismay.
“I didn't mean to frighten the kid.”
Jumping from the coupe, he and Penny ran to the
child.
“You’re all right,” Jerry said, stooping beside the
little girl. The car didn't come within a mile of you.
I'm mighty sorry.”
Nothing that either he nor Penny could say seemed
to quiet the child. Her screams did not subside until a
matron appeared and took her by the hand.
“Come Adelle,” she said gently. “We'll go into the
house.”
“I’m as sorry as I can be,” Jerry apologized, doffing
his hat. “I didn't intend to drive into the yard so fast.
It's all my fault.”
The attendant smiled to set him at ease. “Don’t
mind,” she said quietly. “Adelle is very easily upset.
I'll explain to you later.”


CHAPTER
9
JERRY'S PARTY
BOTHPENNY and Jerry regretted the incident, feel-
ing that they had been at fault because they had driven
into the play area at such high speed.
“Maybe I can send the kid a box of candy or make
it up to her in some way,” the reporter remarked.
Roving about the yard, he and Penny talked to many
of the orphans. Nearly all of the children answered
questions self-consciously and had little to say.
“We'll not get much of a story here,” Jerry com-
mented in an undertone. “These youngsters are as
much alike as if they had been cut from one pattern.”
“Adelle was different,” Penny returned with a smile.
“Almost too much so.”
In a short while, Miss Anderson, the young woman
who had taken the child away, returned to the play
yard. Penny and Jerry immediately inquired about
the little girl.
“Oh, she is quite herself again,” the young woman
responded. “The upset was only a temporary one.”
71


72 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“Is Adelle easily frightened?” Penny inquired curi-
ously. • *
“Unfortunately, she is terrified of automobiles,” re-
sponded Miss Anderson. “I am afraid it is becoming a
complex. You see, about a year ago both of her par-
ents were killed in a motor accident.”
“How dreadful!” Penny gasped.
“Adelle was in the car but escaped with a broken
leg,” the young woman resumed. “The incident made
a very deep impression upon her.”
“I should think so!” exclaimed Jerry. “How did the
accident occur?”
“We don't know exactly, for Adelle was the only
witness. According to her story, the Hanover auto-
mobile was crowded off the road by another motorist
who drove at reckless speed, without lights. The car
upset, pinning the occupants beneath it.”
“It seems to me I remember that story,” Jerry said
thoughtfully. “The hit-run driver never was caught.”
“No, according to Adelle he stopped, only to drive
on again when he saw that her parents were beyond
help.”
“The man must have been heartless!” Penny de-
clared indignantly. “How could he run away?”
“Because he feared the consequences,” Miss Ander-
son answered. “Had he been apprehended he would
have faced charges for manslaughter, and undoubtedly
would have been assessed heavy damages.”


JERaY’s PARTY 73
I take it the child has no property or she wouldn’t
be at this institution,” Jerry said soberly.
“Adelle is penniless. Her parents were her only
relatives, so she was brought to us.”
“It’s a shame!” Penny declared feelingly. “Wasn’t
there any clue as to the identity of the man who caused
the fatal accident?”
" “No worthwhile ones. Adelle insists that she saw
the driver’s face plainly and could recognize him again.
However, she never was able to give a very good de-
scription, nor to make an identification.”
Having heard the story, Jerry was more than ever
annoyed at himself because he had caused the child
needless suffering.
“Miss Anderson, isn’t there something I can do to
make amends?” he asked earnestly. “What would the
little girl like? Candy, toys?”
“It isn’t necessary that you give her anything.”
“I want to do it,” Jerry insisted.
“In that case, why not make some small bequest to
the institution, or send something which may be en-
joyed by all the children.” _-
“Jerry, I have an idea!” cried Penny impulsively.
“Why not give a party? Would that be permissible,
Miss Anderson?”
“Indeed, yes. The children love them, and outings
away from the institution are their special delight.”
“Let’s give a watermelon party!” Penny proposed,
ll


74 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
immediately considering herself Jerry's partner in the
affair. “We could take the children to a nearby farm
and let them gorge themselves!”
“The children would enjoy it, I'm sure,” Miss An-
derson smiled. “Can transportation be arranged? We
have sixty boys and girls.”
“I’ll take care of everything,” Jerry promised.
“Suppose we set tomorrow afternoon as the date.”
“Oh, can't we have the party at night?” Penny
pleaded. “There will be a full moon. A watermelon
feast wouldn't be much fun by daylight.”
Miss Anderson replied that she thought the children
might be allowed to attend such a party, providing it
were held early in the evening. Penny and Jerry
talked with her about various details of the plan, and
then drove away from the institution.
“Well, you certainly got me into something,” Jerry
chuckled as the car turned into the main road. “Where
are we going to throw this party?”
“Oh, any melon farmer will be glad to let the chil-
dren invade his patch, providing we pay for the privi-
lege,” Penny answered carelessly. “You might turn in
at the next farm.”
Her confidence proved to be ill-founded, for Mr.
Kahler, the farmer whom they accosted, would not
consider the proposition.
“The children will trample the vines, and do a lot of
damage,” he declined. “Why don't you try the
Wentover place?” -


$7
iigi1i
7
JERRY S PARTY .
At the Wentover farm, Jerry and Penny likewise
were turned down.
“No one wants sixty orphans running rampant over
his place,” the reporter observed in discouragement.
“We may as well give up the idea.”
“It’s possible Mrs. Davis would allow us to hold a
muskmelon party at her farm,” Penny replied thought-
fully. “Now that her husband has skipped, she must
be in need of money.”
The chance of success seemed unlikely. However,
to please Penny, Jerry drove to the Davis property.
To their surprise they found the place humming with
activity. Professional melon pickers were at work in
the patch, and Mrs. Davis, dressed in overalls, was
personally supervising the laborers.
“I have no time to answer questions!” she announced
to Jerry before he could speak. “Please go away and
leave me alone!”
“Oh, I’m not here in an official capacity this time,”
the reporter grinned. “We want to make you a busi-
ness proposition.”
He then explained what he had in mind. Mrs. Davis
listened attentively but with suspicion.
“It’s likely some trick!” she declared. “I’ll have
nothing to do with it!”
“Mrs. Davis, we’re not trying to deceive you,”
Penny interposed earnestly. “We’ve tried several
other farms before we came here. No one is willing
to let the children trample the vines.”


CHAPTER
10
IN THE MELON PATCH
“WHICH WAY did the fellow go?” Jerry demanded,
bringing the car to a standstill.
“Into the woods,” Penny answered tersely.
Leaping from the automobile, they climbed a fence,
and reached the edge of the woods. Pausing there,
they listened intently. No sound could be heard, not
even the crackling of a stick.
“This timber land extends for miles,” said Jerry.
“We'd only waste time playing hide and seek in there.
Our best bet is to notify Sheriff Daniels and let him
throw a net around the entire section.”
“I guess you're right,” Penny acknowledged regret-
fully. *
Making all haste to Riverview, they stopped briefly
at the sheriff's office to make their report. Penny then
said goodbye to Jerry and went to the newspaper
building where she had parked Leaping Lena. The
car would not start. Experienced in such matters,
Penny raised the hood and posed beside it, a picture of

78


IN THE MEL ON PATCH 79
a young lady in deep distress. Soon a taxi-cab cruised
along. -
“Having trouble, sister?” the driver asked.
Penny slammed down the hood, and scrambled into
Leaping Lena.
“Just give me a little push,” she instructed briskly.
Obligingly, the taxi driver backed into position be-
hind Leaping Lena. After the two cars had gathered
speed, Penny shifted gears. Lena responded with an
ailing cough and then a steady chug.
“Thanks!” Penny shouted, waving farewell to her
benefactor. “I’ll return the favor someday.”
“Not with that mess of junk!” the taxi man laughed.
By keeping the motor running at high speed, Penny
reached home without mishap. Her father had arrived
ahead of her, she noted, for the maroon car had been
put away for the night.
Locking the garage doors, Penny entered the house
by way of the kitchen.
“Where's Dad?” she asked the housekeeper, absently
helping herself to a freshly baked cookie. -
“Listen, and I think you can tell,” Mrs. Weems
answered. -
A loud hammering noise came from the basement.
Inspired by an advertisement of Waldon's Oak Panel-
ing, Mr. Parker had decided to wall up the recreation
room without the services of a carpenter. Much of
his spare time was spent carrying on a personal feud
with boards which refused to fit into the right places.


82 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
u
So you lost a news story because you refused a
bona fide telegram,” Penny said, shaking her head.
“Ben Bowman scores again.” '
“You see what I’m up against,” the editor growled.
“I’d give a hundred dollars to be rid of that pest.”
“You really mean it?” Penny demanded with inter-
CSC.
. “My peace of mind would be well worth the price.”
“In that case, I may apply my own brain to the task.
I could use a hundred dollars.”
The discussion was interrupted by Mrs. Weems
who called that dinner was ready. As Mr. Parker
went to his usual place at the dining room table, he
saw a yellow envelope lying on his plate.
. “What’s this?” he demanded sharply.
“A telegram,” explained Mrs. Weems. “It came
only a moment ago. I paid the boy.”
“How much was the message?” the editor asked, his
face grim.
“A dollar and a half.” Mrs. Weems regarded her
employer anxiously. “Did I do anything I shouldn’t
have? I supposed of course you would want me to
accept the message.”
“This is just too, too good!” Penny chuckled, thor-
oughly enjoying the situation. “Everything so per-
fectly timed, almost as if it were a play!”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Weems murmured. “I’ve
done something I sho1ildn’t—” -
“It was not your fault,” Mr. Parker assured her.


84 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“Dad,” she said suddenly. “I have an idea how Ben
Bowman might be trailed!”
“Never mind telling me,” her father answered. “I
prefer not to hear his name mentioned.”
“As you like,” she shrugged. “I’ll shroud myself in
mystery and silence as I work. But when the case is
ended, I'll present my bill!”
Actually, Penny held slight hope that ever she would
be able to turn the elusive Ben Bowman over to the
police. The wily fellow was far too clever ever to file
two messages from the same telegraph office, and very
seldom from the same city. However, the town of
Claymore, from which the last message had been sent,
was only fifty-five miles away. It had occurred to her
that by going there she might obtain from telegraph
officials the original message filed.
“In that way I’d at least have Ben Bowman's signa-
ture,” she reflected. “While it wouldn’t be much, it
represents a start.” -
Always, Penny's greatest problem was insufficient
time. Greatly as she desired to drive to Claymore, she
knew it would be out of the question for several days.
Not only must arrangements for the orphans’ melon
party be completed, but other interests demanded at-
tention.
Temporarily dismissing Ben Bowman from her
mind, Penny devoted herself to plans for the outing.
Cars easily were obtained, and the following night,
sixty excited orphans were transported to the Davis


86 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
truck farm, and strictly attended to his own affairs.”
“There’s only one possible reason so far asI know,”
the reporter answered. “Not long ago Doolittle re-
fused to join the Holloway County Cooperative, an
organization that markets crops for the truck farmers.”
“And you believe the Hoods may be connected with
the Cooperative?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Jerry replied
hastily. “Fact is, the Holloway Cooperative always
has had a good reputation.”
“There’s no question the Preston barn was destroyed
by the Hoods,” Penny said reflectively. “Although
the evidence pointed to Clem Davis, I’ve never felt
satisfied he was guilty.”
“Same here,” agreed Jerry. “Another thing, I keep
mulling over what that melon sorter said yesterday.”
“You mean his hint that something might happen to
Mrs. Davis’ crop?”
“Yeah. Maybe he knew more than he let on.”
“The Hoods will have to work fast if they destroy
the Davis melons,” Penny rejoined. “Besides, didn’t
the sheriff uncover proof that Clem Davis is a member
of the organization?”
“That’s what he says. I wonder about that too.”
Not far from the truck was a small pile of discarded
melons, culls which were misshapen or over-ripe. Se-
lecting one, Jerry tossed it into the air and caught it.
“Just the right size for a hand grenade,” he remarked.
“Watch!”


IN THE MELoN PATCH 87
He threw the melon hard against the barn. It burst
against the siding, breaking into a dozen fragments and
leaving an unsightly blotch of oozing seeds.
“Jerry, you shouldn't do that,” Penny chided.
“Mrs. Davis won’t like it.”
“Okay, I'll be good,” the reporter promised. “The
temptation was just too strong to resist.”
By this time, the hubbub in the melon patch had
slightly subsided as the youngsters gained their fill of
cantaloupe. Soon institution officials began to pilot
the children to the waiting cars. Severallads protested
at the early termination of the party. -
“Do let the boys stay awhile longer,” Penny pleaded.
“Jerry and I will bring them back in a few minutes.”
“Very well,” the matron consented. “But don't
allow them to eat so many melons that they will be
sick.”
The responsibility of looking after six orphans
weighed heavily upon Penny. After the cars had
driven away, she and Jerry patrolled the patch, trying
vainly to maintain order. With institution authorities
no longer present, the boys proceeded to enjoy them-
selves. They ran races down the furrows, lassoed one
another with vines, and pelted ripe melons against the
fence posts. \
“Hey, you little hoodlums!” Jerry shouted. “Cut it
out or you'll go back to the Home pronto!”
“Says who?” mocked one saucy little fellow in a
piping voice.


CHAPTER
11
PENNY'S CLUE
“THE NIGHTSHIRT riders!” Jerry exclaimed.
“Duck down, everyone!”
Penny and the six lads from the Riverview Home
crouched low, watching the approach of the two
riders.
“One of those men may be Clem Davis, but I doubt
it!” muttered Jerry. “They're here to destroy the
crated cantaloupes!”
“Jerry, we can't let them get away with it!” Penny
exclaimed. “Why not pelt them with melons when
they get closer?”
“Okay,” he agreed grimly, “we’ll give 'em a spoiled
cantaloupe blitz. Gather your ammunition, gang, and
get ready!”
Screened from the approaching horsemen by trees
and bushes, the young people hastily collected a few
over-ripe cantaloupes which were small enough to
throw with accuracy.
Unaware of the barrage awaiting them, the two
hooded men rode into the yard.
I??
89


9Q Ti-iE' CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN _
66 '77 . Cl I ' ',)
Now. Jerry gave the signal. Let em have it.
Taking careful aim, he hurled his own melon with
all his strength. It found its mark, striking one of the
men with stunning force, nearly causing him to fall
from the saddle. ' ,
Penny and the boys from the orphans’ home concen-
trated their efforts on the other horseman. While
many of their shots were wild, a few went true. One
struck the horse which reared suddenly on her hind
legs, unseating the rider.
“Give it to him!” Jerry shouted, observing that the
fallen man was unhurt.
Handicapped by lack of ammunition, there followed
a brief lull in the battle, as the young people sought to
replenish their stock. Seizing the opportunity, one of
the night riders galloped away. The other man, who
had lost his horse, scrambled into the cab of the loaded
melon truck.
“He’s going to drive off!” Penny cried. “Let’s stop
him!” .
She and Jerry ran toward the truck, but they were
too late. The giant motor started with a roar, and the
heavy vehicle rolled out of the yard.
Just then, Mrs. Davis came running from the cabin.
“My melons!” she screamed. “They’ve taken my
melons! Oh, I was afraid something like this would
happen!”
“Maybe I can overtake that fellow,” Jerry called to
her. “Ride herd on these kids until I get back!”


PENNY’s CLUE 9I
As he ran toward his own car, Penny was close at
his heels. She slid into the seat beside him and they
raced down the lane. -
“Which way did the truck go?” Jerry demanded.
“I was so excited I forgot to notice.”
“It turned right. No sign of it now, though.”
“The fellow is running without lights to make it
harder for us to follow him.”
Jerry and Penny both were hopeful that they could
overtake the truck, which carried a heavy load. How-
ever, they had been delayed several minutes in getting
started, and as the miles fell behind them, they caught
no glimpse of the man they pursued.
“He must have turned off on that little side road we
passed a quarter of a mile back,” Penny declared in
discouragement. “Switch off the engine a minute.”
Bringing the car to a standstill, Jerry did as in-
structed. Both listened intently. From far over the
hills they thought they could hear the muffled roar of
a powerful motor.
“You’re right, Penny! He turned off at that side
road!” Jerry exclaimed, backing the coupe around.
“We'll get him yet!”
Retracing their route, they started down the narrow
rutty highway. Five minutes later, rounding a sharp
bend, they caught their first glimpse of the truck, a
dark object silhouetted in the moonlight. Only for a
moment did it remain visible, and then, descending
a hill, was lost to view.


92 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“We're gaining fast,” Jerry said in satisfaction. “It
won't be long now.”
The coupe rattled over a bridge. For no reason at
all it began to bump, a loud pounding noise coming
from the rear of the car.
“Gracious! What now?” Penny exclaimed.
“A flat,” Jerry answered tersely. “Just our luck.”
Pulling up at the side of the road, he jumped out to
peer at the tires. As he had feared, the left rear one
was down.
“We'll probably lose that fellow now,” he said ir-
ritably.
With Penny holding a flashlight, the reporter
worked as fast as he could to change the tire. How-
ever, nearly fifteen minutes elapsed before the task had
been accomplished.
“We may as well turn back,” he said, tossing tools
into the back of the car. “How about it?”
“Oh, let's keep on a little farther,” Penny pleaded.
“If we drive fast we might still overtake him.”
Without much hope, they resumed the pursuit.
Tires whined a protest as they swung around sharp
corners, and the motor began to heat.
“This old bus can't take it any more,” Jerry de-
clared, slackening speed again. “No sense in ruining
the car.”
Penny had been watching the road carefully. They
had passed no bisecting highways, so she felt certain
that the truck could not have turned off. On either
~ * -


PENNY’s CLUE - 93
side of the unpaved thoroughfare were lonely stretches
of swamp and woods.
“Let's not turn back yet,” she pleaded. “We still
have a chance.”
“Okay,” Jerry consented, “but don't forget we have
six orphans waiting for us at the Davis place.”
The car went on for another eight miles. Then
came a welcome stretch of pavement. -
“We must be getting near the state line,” Jerry re-
marked. “Yeah, there it is.”
Directly ahead was a tiny brick building with an
official waiting to inspect cars which passed beyond
that point. A series of markers warned the motorist
to halt at the designated place.
As Jerry drew up, a man came from the little
building.
“Carrying any shrubs, plants or fruit?” he began but
the reporter cut him short.
“We're following a stolen truck!” he exclaimed.
“Has ared truckloaded with cantaloupes gone through
here tonight?”
“I checked one about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Fifteen minutes!” Jerry groaned. “That finishes
us.” -
“The trucker could have reached Claymore by this
time,” the inspector responded. “Once in the city you
wouldn't have much chance to pick him up. I have
the truck license number though. If you'll give me
all the facts, I'll make a report to Claymore police.”


THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
There was no point in pursuing the thief farther.
Accordingly, Penny and Jerry provided the requested
information, and then drove to the Davis farm. Re-
gretfully, they told Mrs. Davis of their failure to trace
the melon thief.
“I’ve lost my crop, the truck—everything,” she said
in a crushed voice. “What’s the use trying anyhow?
A body would be smarter to go along with ’em than
to try to fight.”
“I take it you have a pretty fair idea who it was that
came here tonight?” Jerry said shrewdly. “Who are
these Hoods?”
“I don’t dare tell you,” the woman answered fear-
fully. “You saw what they did tonight. They threw
the blame of the Preston fire on Clem. They’ll do
worse things if I don’t keep mum.”
“You want to help your husband, don’t you?”
Penny inquired.
“Of course I do! But I know better than to talk.”
“You’ve been warned?” Jerry pursued the subject.
“Yes, I have. Now don’t ask me any more ques-
tions. I’ve told you too much already.”
“I just want to know one thing,” Jerry said relent-
lessly. “Did your trouble start because you and your
husband refused to join the Holloway Cooperative?”
“Maybe it did,” the woman answered, her voice
barely above a whisper. “I ain’t saying.”
It was apparent to Jerry and Penny that they could
expect no assistance from Mrs. Davis. Although the


96 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
marking on the cantaloupe. “This may prove a clue
which will lead to the capture of the thief!”
“I don't get it,” answered Jerry. “What clue?”
“Why, this stamping on the melon!” she replied ex-
citedly. “The Hoods must intend to sell that load of
cantaloupes. If they do, we may be able to trace the
shipment.”


CHAPTER
12
ADELLE'S DISAPPEARANCE
JERRY TOOK the melon from Penny's hand to ex-
amine it.
“This stamp may be helpful,” he said dubiously,
“but I doubt it. The Hoods never would be so stupid
as to sell melons which could be traced. No, I think
our investigation will have to center close at home.”
“You're referring to the Holloway Cooperative,
Jerry?”
“That outfit certainly merits an investigation. In
the morning I'll jog out to their packing plant and
talk to the manager, Hank Holloway.”
“What time will you be going, Jerry?”
“About nine o'clock probably.”
“Perhaps I'll meet you there,” Penny said thought-
fully. “That is, if you don't mind.”
“Glad to have you,” the reporter responded in a
hearty voice.
The two cars soon started for the Riverview Or-
phans' Home, arriving there without mishap. After
unloading the boys entrusted to their care, Jerry
97


98 THE -crocx STRIKES THIRTEEN
and Penny then went to their respective residences.
“I’m glad you came at last,” Mrs. Weems remarked
as the girl entered the house. ' “You’re to telephone
Miss Anderson at the Riverview Orphans’ Home.”
“But I just left there,” Penny protested. “When
did the call come?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.” _
Wondering what could be amiss, Penny went to the
telephone. In a moment she was in communication
with Miss Anderson, who assisted the matron of the
institution. The young woman’s voice betrayed agita-
tion as she disclosed that following the night’s outing,
an orphan had been discovered missing. ¢$
“Oh, goodness!” Penny exclaimed, aghast. “One of
those six boys? ”
Miss Anderson’s reply slightly reassured her.
“No, the missing child is a little girl who was not
permitted to attend the party because of a severe cold.
You may remember her—Adelle.”
“Indeed I do, Miss Anderson. Tell me how I may
help.”
“We’ve already organized searching parties,” the
young woman returned. “Adelle surely will be found
within a few hours. However, if the story gets out it
will do the institution no good—particularly at this
time when our drive for funds is on.”
“I see,” Penny murmured, “you would like the news
kept out of the Star?”


ADELLE’s DISAPPEARANCE 99
“Can it be arranged?” Miss Anderson asked eagerly.
“If you will talk to your father about it we'll be very
grateful.”
“I’ll ask him not to print the story,” Penny prom-
ised, none too pleased by the request. “I do hope
Adelle is found soon.”
She could not help feeling that the institution of-
ficials seemed far more worried about the prospect of
unfavorable publicity than over the missing child's
welfare. Saying goodbye to Miss Anderson, she
sought her father who was reading in the library.
“Penny, you know I don't like to grant such favors,”
Mr. Parker frowned when the conversation was re-
peated to him. “As a matter of principle, it never pays
to withhold information unless the telling will harm
innocent persons.”
“In this case, it will damage the institution,” Penny
argued quietly. “Besides, I feel more or less respon-
sible. What started out as a nice little party for the
orphans, ended in a regular brawl. It was planned
primarily for Adelle and then she ran away because
she wasn't permitted to attend.”
Starting at the very beginning, Penny told her father
everything that had happened during the night. The
tale was one of absorbing interest to Mr. Parker.
When she had finished, he said:
“Don’t worry about the affair, Penny. I am as in-
terested in the Riverview Camp fund as you are.


ADELLE's DISAPPEARANCE IOI
less the child is found by noon, it will be necessary to
broadcast a general alarm. And that's certain to bring
unfavorable attention to the Home.”
“Is there any chance she could have been kidnaped?”
Penny asked thoughtfully.
“Not the slightest,” was the prompt reply. “Adelle
took most of her clothes with her. It's a plain case of
a runaway, but most annoying at this time.”
Penny ate a hasty breakfast, and then remembering
her appointment with Jerry, drove to the Holloway
Cooperative. The buildings were of modern concrete
construction, located three and a half miles from River-
view in the heart of the truck farming district. i
Jerry Livingston had not yet arrived, so Penny
waited in the car. Soon his coupe swung into the
drive and pulled up alongside Leaping Lena.
“Sorry to be late,” he apologized. “I was held up at
the office.” -
Knowing that her father would have told Jerry
about Adelle's disappearance, Penny inquired regard-
ing the latest news. - -
“So far there's not a trace of the child,” the re-
porter answered. “Your father's sore at himself for
promising not to carry the story. It may develop into
something big.”
Penny walked beside Jerry to the entrance of the
cooperative plant.
“No one seems to worry much about Adelle,” she


/
\
J 9,‘ 1. _
7
ADELLE S DISAPPEARANCE IQS
Leaving her car by the main road, Penny went di-
rectly to the shop. The door was closed and locked.
However, as she turned away, she distinctly heard a
voice inside the building. Although she could not
make out the words, she was certain that a child had
called.
“Who is it?” she shouted. \
“Help! Let me out!” came the plaintive cry from
inside the shop.
Penny ran to the window and peered into the dark
interior. She scarcely was able to believe what she
saw. A little girl, her face streaked with teafsand dirt,
pounded fiercely on the heavy door, seeking release.
“It’s Adelle!” she gasped. “How in the world did
she get locked in Mr. McGuire’s shop?”
it


CHAPTER
13
AN EXTRA STROKE
WITH ALL the windows and the door of the shop
locked, Penny did not know how to free the im-
prisoned child. However, as she considered the prob-
lem, Seth McGuire appeared on the porch of the cot-
tage.
“Good morning,” he greeted her pleasantly.
“Oh, Mr. McGuire!” Penny exclaimed. “Did you
know there is a child locked inside your shop?”
“A child!” the old man exclaimed, coming quickly
down the steps. “Why bless me! How can that be?”
“I don't understand how she got inside, but she's
there! Officials of the Riverview Orphans' Home
have been searching for Adelle Hanover since last
night.”
“Wait until I get my key,” the old man said in an
agitated voice. “I hope you don't think I locked the
child into the shop!”
Knowing Mr. McGuire as she did, Penny enter-
tained no such thought. Waving encouragingly to
I06


IO8 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
of a nervous 'fliction. I'm afraid of things, 'specially
cars.” -
“That's very natural, everything considered,”
Penny replied, thinking of the story Miss Anderson
had told her. “Now I'll take you to the Home.”
Adelle drew away, and as if seeking protection,
crowded close beside Mr. McGuire.
“I’m never going back, even if I freeze and starve!”
she announced. “I’ll find me a cave and live on ber-
ries. It would be more fun than being an orphan.”
Penny gazed despairingly at the old bell maker.
With a chuckle, he took the child by the hand and led
her toward the cottage.
“We'll have lunch and talk things over,” he pro-
posed. “How will that be?”
“I’m awful hungry,” Adelle admitted, smiling up at
him. “But you won't give me any old boiled potatoes,
will you? We have 'em every single day at the
Home.”
“No potatoes,” he laughed. “We'll have the very
nicest things I can find in the icebox, and maybe a
stick of candy to top it off.”
While Mr. McGuire pottered about the kitchen
preparing a warm meal, Penny washed Adelle and
combed her tangled hair. Afterwards, she telephoned
officials of the Home, telling them that the child had
been found.
“I’ll bring her there within an hour,” she promised.
“Just as soon as she has had her lunch.”


AN EXTRA STROKE Io9
Adelle was ravenous. She was not a pretty child,
but her face had an elfin quality when she smiled. Her
brown eyes, roving about the spick and span little
dinette, took in every detail.
“This is almost as nice as it was at our home,” she
remarked. “I mean my real home, when Daddy and
Mother were alive.”
“You’ll have a nice place again when you are
adopted,” Penny assured her kindly.
“I’d like to stay here,” Adelle said, looking thought-
fully at the old man. “Would your wife let me?”
“Why, bless you, I haven't a wife,” he answered in
embarrassment. “I’m a bachelor.”
“Wouldn't you like a little girl?” Adelle persisted.
“I could do your dishes for you and sweep the floor.
I'd be real good.” -
“Well, now I’ve often thought I would like a nice
little girl,” he replied, smiling.
“Then you can have me!” Adelle cried, jumping up
from her chair. “You can tell the Home I won’t be
back!” -
“Not so fast, not so fast,” Mr. McGuire said hastily.
“I’d like a little girl, but I am afraid I can't afford one.
You see, I don't make much money any more and
there are other reasons—”
“Oh, I won't eat much,” Adelle promised. “Please
keep me, Mr. McGuire.”
The old man was so distressed that Penny tried to
come to his rescue. However, despite repeated ex-


110 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
l
planations, Adelle refused to understand why she
could not immediately become Mr. McGuire’s little
irl.
g “If I had my old job back, I’d be tempted, sorely
tempted,” the old man said to Penny. “I’ve always
wanted someone that was near and dear to me.” He
drew a deep sigh. “As things are, I don’t see how it
could be worked out.”
“Won’t you keep thinking about _it?” Adelle
pleaded. “Anytime you want me, I’ll come right
away.”
“Yes, I’ll think about it,” Mr. McGuire promised
soberly. “I really will.”
An hour later Penny took a very depressed Adelle
back to the Riverview Orphans’ Home. Leaving her
there, she drove on into town, chancing to see her
chum, Louise Sidell on the street. Signalling her with
a toot of the horn, Penny swung wide the door. _
“On your way home, Lou?” she inquired.
“No, just wandering around in a daze trying to do a
bit of shopping,” Louise answered, sharing the seat.
“The stores here never have anything I want.”
“Then why not go to Claymore?” Penny proposed
suddenly.
“I would ifI could get there.”
“I’ll take you,” Penny offered. “I need to go to
Claymore on special business, and I’d like to have
someone ride along.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Louise replied dubiously. “I
1


CHAPTER
14-
_ THROUGH THE WINDOW
“YOU HAVE the craziest ideas, Penny,” Louise
scoffed. “I’ll admit the clock struck an extra time, but
it must have been because something is wrong with
the mechanism. A signal, my eye!”
Lowering the car window, Penny peered curiously
up at the tower which was shrouded in fog and
“Lou, there’s someone up there in the cupola! It
may be Charley Phelps!”
“You ‘can’t make a mystery out of Charley,”
yawned Louise. “Probably he’s trying to repair the
clock. Come on, let’s get home.”
Reluctantly, Penny raised the window glass. Be-
fore she could drive on, another car pulled up not far
from the tower. The driver, a man in an overcoat,
swung open the door as if to alight. However, observ-
ing Penny’s car parked close by, he seemed to change
his mind. Keeping his head lowered so that his face
was shadowed, he drove away.
“Who was that man?” Penny demanded suspi-
ciously.
115


II6 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“I’m afraid I neglected to inquire,” Louise retorted.
“So careless of me!”
“Whoever he was, he intended to enter the tower!
When he saw us here, he became nervous and drove
away!”
“Oh, Penny, you’re the limit.”
“Maybe I am, but I know what I think. The striking
of the clock was a signal for some sort of meeting at
the tower!”
“A board of directors confab perhaps?” teased
Louise.
“Listen!” said Penny, ignoring the jibes. “I want
to park the car on a side street, and then come back
here afoot. Something is up and I mean to find out
about it!”
“Oh, Penny,” Louise sighed. - “If I don’t get home
Mother never will allow me to go anywhere with you
again. Don’t you realize what time it is?”
“Thirteen o’clock!” Penny chuckled. “It may
never be that again, so I must strike while the clock
strikes, so to speak. How about it? ”
“Well, it’s your car,” Louise replied with a shrug.
“I’m powerless in your hands.”
Penny drove around a block, parking on a well-
lighted street. She and Louise then approached the
tower afoot. Not wishing to be seen, they took care
to keep close to a high hedge which edged the grounds.
“I never felt more silly in my life,” Louise com-
plained. “What are we supposed to do now?”
":-


THROUGH THE WINDOW 117
“Windows were made to look through,” Penny re-
sponded coolly. “Let's see what Charley Phelps is
doing inside the tower.”
Circling the building, the girls placed a rock beneath
one of the rear windows. From that unstable perch,
Penny was able to peer into the living quarters of the
to Wer.
“Well, what do you see, Sherlock?” Louise de-
manded impatiently.
“Nothing.”
“How perfectly amazing!” Louise taunted mischie-
viously. “What do you make of it?”
“Charley Phelps seems to be reading a newspaper.”
“Baffling! It must have some deep, dark signifi-
cance.”
With a sigh, Penny stepped down from the rock.
“Want to look?” she invited.
“I do not!”
“Then I guess we may as well go home,” Penny
said reluctantly.
As she spoke, both girls heard an automobile pull up
in front of the tower. With reviving hope, Penny
placed a restraining hand on Louise's arm, forcing her
to wait in the shadow of the building. A minute
elapsed and then the front door of the tower slammed
shut. Without the slightest hesitation, Penny once
more moved to her previous position beneath the
window. -
“Charley has some visitors,” she reported in a whis-


118 THE CLOCK srarxss THIRTEEN
H
per. Four men I never saw before. I wish I could
hear what they are saying.”
“Why not smash the window, or saw a hole through
the wall?” Louise proposed sarcastically.
Penny stepped from the rock, offering the place to
her chum.
“Do look inside,” she urged. “Maybe you’ll recog-
nize those men. It’s really important.” '
Louise unwillingly did as requested, but after a mo-
ment moved away from the window.
“I never saw any of them either,” she said. “They
must be friends of Charley Phelps.” -
“It’s a special meeting,” Penny insisted. “I suspect
other men may come along within a few minutes.”
“I know one thing,” Louise announced flatly. “I’ll
not be here to see them. If you’re not ready to go
home, then I shall walk!” .
“Oh, all right, I’ll go,” Penny grumbled. “It seems
a pity though, just when we might have learned some-
thing important.” '
Taking care to remove the stone from beneath the
tower window, she hastened after her chum. In si-
lence they drove to the Sidell home where Louise
alighted. .
“Sorry to have spoiled your fun, Penny,” she apolo-
gized as she said goodnight. “If you’ll only arrange
to conduct your explorations by daylight I’ll try to
cooperate.”
Arriving at her own home a few minutes later,
41.1:


THROUGH THE WINDOW II9
\
Penny found her father waiting up for her. Mr.
Parker had attended a meeting of the Camp Fund
board, and upon returning at eleven-thirty, had been
disturbed to find his daughter absent.
“Hold it! Hold it!” Penny greeted him before he
could speak. “I know it’s late, but I can explain every-
thing.”
“You’re always able to explain—too well,” the edi-
tor responded dryly. “Mrs. Weems expected that
you would be home not later than eleven o’clock.”
“Well, one thing just seemed to lead to another,
Dad. Louise and I saw a wonderful show, I obtained
a copy of Ben Bowman’s signature, and then to top it
off, the Hubell clock struck thirteen again!”
“Which in your estimation explains everything?"
“I wish it did,” Penny said, neatly changing the sub-
ject. “Dad, Louise and I saw a number of men going
into the tower tonight. Obviously, they were sum-
moned there by the striking of the clock.”
“Tommyrot! ”
“Oh, Dad, you haven’t a scrap of imagination,”
Penny sighed. “Has it never occurred to you that
Charley Phelps may be connected with the Hoods?”
“Never,” replied Mr. Parker. “And if I were you
I shouldn’t go around making such wild suggestions.
You might find yourself involved in serious trouble.”
“You’re the only one to whom I’ve confided my
theory, Dad. In fact, it only this minute occurred
to me.”


I2O THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“So I thought, Penny. If I were you I would for-
get the Hubell clock. Why not devote yourself to
something worthwhile?”
“For instance?”
“I’ll provide an interesting job. I've been asked to
select play equipment for the new orphans' camp.
I'll be happy to turn the task over to you.”
“Do you think I could do it?” Penny asked dubi-
ously.
“Why not? You can learn from the matron of the
Home what is needed, and then make your selection.”
“I’ll be glad to do it, Dad. When is the camp to
open?”
“The actual date hasn’t been set, but it will be soon.
That is, unless a serious disagreement arises about the
camp site.”
“A disagreement?” Penny inquired curiously.
“Yes, Mr. Blake is trying to influence the board to
buy a track of land which he controls.”
“At a very high price?”
“The price seems to be fair enough. I personally
don't care for the site, however. It's located on the
river, but too close to the swamp.”
“Then why does the board consider it?”
“Mr. Blake gave a very generous donation, you re-
member. I figured at the time he would expect some-
thing in return.” • ,
“He'll profit by the sale?”
“Obviously. I don't know who owns the land, but


THROUGH THE WINDOW I21
Blake will receive a commission on the sale. The
board also is considering a wooded property closer to
Riverview, and I favor that site.”
“Will the board listen to you, Dad?” .
' “I rather doubt it. My objections weren’t especially
vigorous. Either property will be satisfactory, and
Blake’s price is a trifle more attractive.”
With a yawn, Mr. Parker arose and locked the front
door. I
“It’s after one,” he said. “Let’s get to bed.”
Penny started up the stairway, only to pause as the
telephone rang. While her father answered it, she
waited, curiously to learn who would be calling at
such a late hour. In a moment he replaced the receiver
on its hook. I
“That was the night editor of the Star,” he explained
briefly.
“Has a big story broken, Dad?”
“Another storage barn was burned to the ground
about ten minutes ago. The night editor called to ask
howl wanted the story handled.”
“Then the depredation was done by the Hoods!”
“It looks that way.”
Penny came slowly down the stairway to face her
father.
“Dad, if the fire was set only a few minutes ago,
doesn’t that support my theory?”
“Which theory? You have so many.”
“I mean about the Hubell Tower,” Penny said so-


T
I
I22 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
berly. “The clock struck thirteen on the night the
Preston barn was destroyed! Don’t you see, Dad?
The Hoods hold their meetings and then ride forth to
accomplish their underhanded work!”
'\
'-


124, THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
story merely said that the barn of John Hancock,
truck farmer, had been destroyed by a blaze of un-
known origin. In the right hand column‘ was another
news item to the effect that Sheriff Daniels had made
no progress in tracing the missing Clem Davis.
Tossing aside the paper, Penny helped with the
breakfast dishes. As gently as possible she broke the
news to Mrs. Weems that she might make another
trip to Claymore. '
“Why bother to remain home even for meals?” the
housekeeper said severely. “I declare, I don’t know
what your father is thinking about to allow you such
liberties! Whenl was a girl—”
“It was considered very daring to go for a buggy
ride without a chaperon,” Penny completed mischie-
vously. “Now, I’m very sorry about last night. Lou-
ise and I didn’t intend to remain out so late.” _
“It was after one o’clock when you came in,” Mrs.
Weems replied, her voice stern. “You know I don’t
approve of such hours for a girl of your age.”
“I promise it won’t happen again. Please let me go
to Claymore though. I’m expected to buy playground
equipment for the Riverview Orphans’ new camp.”
Exerting all her charm, Penny explained the neces-
sity for the trip. Finally convincing Mrs. Weems that
the excuse had not been “thought up” on the spur of
the moment, she was granted the requested permission.
Penny’s next move was to induce Louise Sidell to
accompany her on the excursion. Both girls laid siege


TRACING BEN BOWMAN I25
to Mrs. Sidell who somewhat dubiously said that her
daughter might go, providing she would be home by .
nightfall.
Recalling her father's instructions, Penny called at
the Riverview Orphans' Home to talk with the ma-
tron. There she obtained a list of playground equip-
ment to be purchased, with suggested prices for each
item.
As the girls were leaving the institution they met
Miss Anderson and paused to inquire about Adelle.
“The child seems to be nervous and unhappy,” the
young woman told them. “Especially so since she ran
away. We sincerely hope she will presently become
adjusted.”
Penny asked if there was any prospect the little girl
would be adopted. -
“Not very soon,” Miss Anderson answered regret-
fully. “In fact, her name is not on the list of eligibles.
We never allow a child to leave the Home until we
feel that he or she is capable of adapting himself to
new conditions.”
The drive to Claymore was an enjoyable one, and
by eleven o'clock, the girls had purchased many of the
items on their list. To the amusement of the depart-
ment store salesman, they insisted upon testing teeter-
totters, swings, and even the slides. -
“All this equipment is for the Riverview Orphans'
Home—not for ourselves,” Penny explained. “The
committee will pay for it.”


TRACING BEN BOWMAN 127
Penny had heard the words. Startled by the name,
she moved hastily to the detective's side.
“Excuse me,” she addressed him, “did I understand
you to say that a man by the name of Ben Bowman
forged a cheque?”
“That's correct, Miss,” the detective answered, star-
ing at her curiously. “Know anything about the
man?”
“I think I may. Would it be possible for me to see
the cheque?”
The detective removed it from a vest pocket, offer-
ing the signature for inspection. One glance satisfied
Penny that the cheque had been signed by the same
man who had been sending her father “crank” mes-
Sages.
“At home I have a telegram which I'm sure bears
, this identical signature!” she revealed. “I’ve never
seen the man though—except as he ran through the
store.”
The store detective questioned Penny at length
about her knowledge of Bowman. Realizing that a
description of the man might be of great value to her,
he showed her a small card which bore a mounted
photograph.
“This is Ben Bowman,” he assured her. “He’s an
expert forger, and uses any number of names. Think
you can remember the face?”
“I’ll try to,” Penny replied. “He doesn't seem to
have any distinguishing features though.”


118 THE ctocx STRIKES THIRTEEN
H
His angular jaw is rather noticeable,” the detective
pointed out. “Brown eyes are set fairly close together.
He’s about six feet two and dresses well.”
. Pemiy was highly elated to have gained a descrip-
tion of Bowman, and especially pleased that the man
had been traced to Claymore. The fact that he was a
known forget, encouraged her to hope that police
soon would apprehend him.
“That one hundred dollars Dad offered for Bow-
man’s capture is as good as mine already,” she boasted
gleefully to Louise as they left the store. “All I need
to do is wait.”
“No doubt you’ll collect,” Louise admitted grudg-
ingly. “I never met anyone with your brand of luck.”
“I feel especially lucky today too,” Penny said with
a gay laugh. “Tell you what! Let’s make another
tour of the vegetable markets.” .
“It will make us late in getting home. The time is
sure to be wasted too.”
“Oh, come along,” Penny urged, seizing her by the
arm. “I promise to have you in Riverview no later
than three o’clock.”
In driving into Claymore that morning the girls had
noticed a large outdoor market near the outskirts of
the city. Returning to it, Penny parked the car, and
with her chum wandered about the sales area.
“A nice fat chicken?” a farm woman asked persua-
sively, holding up an uninviting specimen. “Fresh
eggs?” ‘


CHAPTER
16
A FAMILIAR NAME
“THE MELON you have selected is a very good
one,” the market man declared, not understanding the
significance of Penny's remark. “Shall I put it in a
sack for you?”
“I'm not interested in the melon—only in the
stamp,” Penny replied. “Do you realize that you may
be liable to arrest?”
“What d'you mean, liable to arrest?” the man
demanded. “I’m an honest dealer and I have a li-
cense.”
“Look at these melons.” Penny held up one which
bore the blurred stamp. “The trade name has been
altered.”
The dealer took the cantaloupe from her, examining
it briefly. She then offered him the single 'melon bear-
ing the Davis stamp.
“Well, what about it?” he asked.
“Just this. A few nights ago a truck load of melons
similar to these, was stolen from the Davis farm near
95
I30


- A FAMILIAR NAME I33
scription would fit Hank Holloway, or for that matter,
any one of a dozen men I know.” .
The girls arrived in Riverview by mid-afternoon
after an uneventful trip. Penny dropped Louise at
the Sidell home and then went to the Star office to
talk with her father. Mr. Parker was absent from his
desk, but his secretary who was typing letters, ex-
plained that he would return in a moment. '
Penny sat down in her father’s chair to wait. A
bulky, unsealed envelope lay on the desk. Peering at
it curiously she noted that it bore the marking: “Prop-
erty Deed: Lots 456, 4.57, and 458.”
“What’s this?” she asked aloud. “Is Dad buying
property?”
“Oh, no,” the secretary replied, glancing up from
her typewriter. “That is the deed and abstract for the
Orphans’ Camp site.” -
“I wonder which property it is?”
“The land Mr. Blake lxcontrols, I believe. At least
he brought the papers into the office this morning for
your father’s inspection. I heard him say that if the
forms are satisfactory, the deal will be completed at
once.” "
Penny unfolded one of the lengthy documents,
shaking her head as she scanned the legal terms.
“I don’t see how Dad makes anything of this,” she
said. “Such a mess of words and names!” \'
“I imagine Mr. Parker intends to turn it over to his
lawyer,” the secretary smiled.


THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
The editor entered the office at that moment, and
Penny directed her next question to him.
“Dad, is it all settled that the camp board will pur-
chase Mr. Blake’s land?”
“Practically so,” he answered. “If my lawyer, Mr.
Adams, approves the abstract, the deal will be com-
pleted. Against my advice Mrs. Van Cleve already
has given Blake five hundred dollars to hold an op-
tron.”
“Why did she do that, Dad?”
“Well, Blake convinced her he had another buyer
for the property. It’s the old story. Competition
stimulates interest.”
“Do the papers seem to be all right?”
“Oh, I’ve not looked at them,” Mr. Parker replied.
“Blake is a good real estate man though, so there’s not
likely to be any flaw.”
“Who actually owns the property, Dad?”
“It’s there on the abstract,” he answered. “Why
not look it up for yourself?”
“Too much like doing home-work,” Penny grinned,
but she spread the document on the desk and began
to read various names aloud. “ ‘Anna and Harry Clark
to Lydia Goldwein, Lydia Goldwein to Benjamin
Bowman—’ ”
ll >71
What was that name. Mr. Parker demanded
sharply.
“Benjamin Bowman.” Penny peered at the docu-
ment a second time to make certainshe had made no


136 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
proposed. “He should be able to tell you something
about his client.”
“That’s really a first-class idea,” Mr. Parker agreed
and he reached for a telephone. “I’ll ask Mr. Blake
to come here at once.”
Q
\
I


*...*
CHAPTER
17
FALSE RECORDS
MR. BLAKE, suave, completely at ease, sat opposite
Mr. Parker and Penny in the editor's private office.
“I came as soon as I could after receiving your tele-
phone message, Mr. Parker,” he said pleasantly.
“Now what seems to be the trouble?”
“Perhaps I shouldn't have bothered you,” the editor
apologized. “However, in glancing over the abstract
for the Orphans' Camp property I noticed that the
land is owned by a man named Benjamin Bowman.”
“Quite true. I am acting as his agent.”
“It happens that I have had dealings with a man by
that same name,” resumed Mr. Parker. “Rather un-
pleasant dealings, I might add. I'm curious to learn if .
this property owner is the same fellow.”
“Very unlikely, I think,” Mr. Blake shrugged. .
“My client does not reside in Riverview.”
“Nor does the man I have in mind.”
“Can you tell us what he looks like?” Penny inter-
posed eagerly.
I37


138 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“I am very sorry, but I can’t,” Mr. Blake returned.
“I’.ve never met Mr. Bowman.”
“Yet you act as his agent?” Mr. Parker inquired in
astonishment.
“All our dealings have been by mail or telephone.”
“I see,” the editor commented refiectively. “Well,
at least you can provide me with the man’s address.”
“I can’t do that either,” Mr. Blake declined. “Ben-
jamin Bowman is a salesman with no permanent ad-
dress. He communicates with me at fairly regular
intervals, but until I hear from him, I have no idea
where he will be the following week.”
“Your description seems to fit the man of my ac-
quaintance,” Mr. Parker said dryly. “But tell me,
how do you expect to complete this deal? Will Bow-
man come here to sign the necessary papers?”
“Oh, that won’t be required. He’s already made
out the sales documents, and also given me a power of
attorney.”
“Mr. Bowman seems to think of everything,” Mr.
Parker remarked grimly. “I was hoping for the pleas-
ure of meeting him.”
“I really don’t see what all this has to do with the
sale of the property,” Mr. Blake reproved in a mild
voice. “You feel that the site is a suitable one, and the
price right?” l
“I have _no serious objections to it.” -
“Then why allow your personal feelings to inter-
fere with the deal?”
1,-


FALSE RECORDS I41
isn’t opened this year. Too much money is involved
to risk paying for land which may have a faulty title.”
The following day, the editor conferred with mem-
bers of the Camp Fund board, telling of his findings.
To his chagrin, Mrs. .Van Cleve did not share his
views.
“I trust Mr. Blake’s judgment implicitly,” she in_-
sisted. “I am sure the property will be satisfactory in
every way. If there should by chance be any flaw in
the title, he would make it good.”
“We can’t possibly delay the dedication another
week,” added another feminine member of the board.
“The Summer is nearly over now.”
“At least postpone making the final payment until
after I have had another report from my lawyers,” Mr.
Parker pleaded.
“Very well, we’ll do that,” Mrs. Van Cleve agreed.
“Mr. Blake is so obliging I am sure he will allow us to
set up equipment on the land, even though we don’t
actually possess title.”
The entire transaction seemed very unbusinesslike
to Mr. Parker, but he did not attempt to force his opin-
ion upon the board members. Accordingly, plans
went forward for the grand opening of the camp.
Stories appeared regularly in the Star, playground
equipment and floored tents were set up on the camp
site, and the actual dedication program was an-
nounced.
“You might know Mr. Blake would be invited to


I42 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
make the main speech,” Penny remarked disapprov-
ingly as she scanned the latest story of the coming
affair. “Every day, in every way, he gives me a bigger
and bigger pain! "
Throughout the week both she and Louise had been
very active, helping out at the new camp site. The
land had been cleared of underbrush, trails had been
constructed, and a well dug. While supervising the
setting-up of slides, merry-go-rounds and tetter-tot-
ters, Penny upon several occasions had had disagree-
ments with Mr. Blake. The man remained at the site
almost constantly, imposing his wishes upon everyone.
“A great deal of time and money has been spent get-
tingithat place ready for the dedication,” Penny com-
mented to her father. “If anything should happen that
the final papers aren’t signed, it would be a pity.”
“I’ve had no report as yet,” Mr. Parker answered.
“My lawyers tell me they never delved into a more in-
volved case.” '
“What does Mr. Blake think about the investiga-
tion?”
“He seems to be agreeable. However, I suspect he’s
been working on the various board members, trying
to get them to conclude the deal without waiting.”
“How long will it be before you’ll have a final re-
port, Dad?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I expected to get it
long before this.”
In the flurry of preparing for the camp dedication,
'-1 ii‘:


FALSE RECORDS 145
I 1"' ‘L? '


have been uncovered for quite a few years to come.”
“What will you do, Dad?” Penny inquired, deeply
distressed. “The dedication is scheduled to start
within an hour.”
“I don’t see how it can be postponed,” Mr. Parker
said soberly. “It will have to go on according to
schedule.”
“Afterwards you’ll ask for Blake’s arrest? ”
“There’s no real evidence against him.”
“No evidence!”
“He claims to be a mere agent of Ben Bowman. All
of the deeds and legal papers were drawn up by some
other person. If any accusation is made against him,
he can escape by maintaining that he knew nothing of
the back records.”
“There’s one person who might be able to implicate
him!” Penny exclaimed. “Ben Bowman!”
“Bowman should have it in his power to clear up
some of the mystery,” Mr. Parker agreed. “But how
are we to find him?”
“I don’t know,” Penny admitted. “It looks rather
hopeless unless the police just present him to us
wrapped in pink ribbon.” .
The clock struck nine. Daring not to linger any
longer, Penny hastily bade her father goodbye and
left the house- . .
Driving to the camp site with Louise Sidell, she told
her chum of the latest complications.
“Mr. Blake is one of the worst hypocrites in the


146 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
world,” she declared feelingly. “He pretends he
wants to help the orphans, and all the while he intends
to trick the Board and make a nice profit for himself.”
“Your father won't let him get away with it,” Lou-
ise returned confidently. “So long as the money hasn't
been paid over there's no need to worry.”
Arriving at the camp site, the girls went at once to
the official tent. To their surprise, Mr. Blake, Mrs.
Van Cleve, and all members of the Board save Mr.
Parker, were there. On the table lay various legal
papers which bore signatures still moist with ink.
Penny gazed from one person to another, slowly
comprehending the scene.
“You're not buying this property!” she exclaimed
in protest.
Mrs. Van Cleve's reply stunned her.
“It seemed unreasonable to keep Mr. Blake waiting,”
the woman said quietly. “The transaction has just
been completed.”


148 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“This isn’t true?” Mrs. Van Cleve asked the real
estate man.
“Certainly not! You may be sure that if there is
the slightest flaw in the title, I shall return your
cheque.”
“Perhaps, considering the uncertainty, it might be
wise to postpone payment until I have talked again
with Mr. Parker,” Mrs. Van Cleve said diffidently.
The real estate man made no attempt to hide his
annoyance. “My dear Mrs. Van Cleve,” he said, “the
deal already has been completed. I have tried to re-
main patient, but really this is too much.”
On the table lay several typewritten papers.
Clipped neatly to the uppermost one, was the cheque
endorsed by Mrs. Van Cleve. Mr. Blake reached to
take possession of it, but his move was deliberate.
Acting impulsively, Penny darted forward and seized
the bit of paper. To the horror of everyone in the
tent, she tore the cheque into a dozen pieces and tossed
them into the air.
“There!” she announced, a trifle stunned by her
OWI) 3Gt.
“Penelope, you shouldn't have done that,” Mrs. Van
Cleve reproved, but she smiled faintly.
“You are an outrageous child!” Mr. Blake ex-
claimed, losing his temper. “What do you expect to
accomplish by such a stupid trick? Mrs. Van Cleve
will merely write out another cheque.”
t


ADELLE’s ACCUSATION I49
“Well, under the circumstance, it might be better to
wait,” the club woman demurred. “I really shouldn't
have acted without consulting Mr. Parker.”
“Unless the transaction is completed now I shall
have nothing to do with the dedication,” Mr. Blake
declared. “I shall decline to make my speech.”
Penny's broad grin made it clear that she thought
the loss would not be a great one.
“Furthermore, I shall ask that my recent donation
be returned,” Mr. Blake resumed severely. “I shall
withdraw this property for sale—”
“You will withdraw it!” Penny caught him up. “I
thought you merely were acting as the agent for Ben-
jamin Bowman!”
* “I mean I shall make such a suggestion to him,” the
- real estate man amended.
Penny waited anxiously for Mrs. Van Cleve's deci-
sion. To her relief, the society woman seemed an-
noyed by the attitude Mr. Blake had taken. -
“I am sorry,” she said coldly. “If you don't wish
to make the dedication speech, we will manage to do
without your services. As for the cheque, I cannot
make out another until I have discussed the situation
with Mr. Parker.”
The argument went on, but Penny did not remain
to hear it. Louise took her forcibly by the arm, fairly
pulling her outside the tent.
“Haven't you caused enough trouble?” she de-
-


ADELLE’S ACCUSATION 1 5 1
board, and at the proper time made a brief and rather
curt speech.
“Everything seems to have turned out rather well,”
Louise remarked in relief. “Mr. Blake may not be
such a bad sort after all.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Penny returned. “He’s
just clever enough never to put himself in a Ipad light
if he can help it; I only hope Mrs. Van Cleve didn’t
give in to him and sign another cheque.”
Following the dedication exercises, a portion of the
crowd dispersed, but many persons remained to en-
joy picnic lunches. Penny and Louise ate their own
sandwiches, and then watched the orphans at play.
“The new camp director seems very eflicient,”
Louise remarked, her gaze upon a young man who
supervised the children.
Presently, as the girls watched, the camp super-
visor announced that he would take several boys and
girls for a sail on the river. The boat, a twelve-foot
dinghy, had been the gift of a well-to-do Riverview
department store owner. =
Immediately there was a great clamor from the
children, for everyone wanted to take the first ride.
“Only six may go,” the director said, and called off
the names.
Penny and wandered down to the water’s
edge to watch the loading of the boat. Adelle had
been one of the orphans chosen, and they waved re-
assuringly to her.
T_ 1" ;


ADELLE's AccusATION I 53
craft, she then seized a struggling boy by the hair, and
pulled him to safety.
“Adelle!” the camp director gasped. “Get her!”
The little girl had been carried a considerable dis-
tance from the boat. Penny started to swim toward
her, but she saw that it would not be necessary. From
the forest close by had emerged an unshaven man in
rough, soiled clothing. Diving into the water, he
seized Adelle, and swam with her to shore.
Penny did not return to the overturned boat for
several men had waded out to tow it to land. Con-
cerned regarding Adelle, she followed the child's
IeSCuer. -
The man bore the orphan in his arms to a grassy
spot on shore. Stretching her out there, he hesi-
tated an instant, and then before the crowd could sur-
round him, darted quickly away toward the woods.
“Wait!” Penny shouted, wading through the shal-
low water. •
The man heard, but paid no heed. He entered the
forest and was lost to view.
“That was Clem Davis!” Penny thought tensely.
“I’m sure of it!”
Before she could reach Adelle, other persons had
gathered around the child. Clyde Blake pushed
through the crowd.
“What is this?” he inquired. “What has happened?”
As the man bent over Adelle, the little girl opened
her eyes, gazing directly into his face. For a moment


CHAFTER
19
TRALING A FUGITIVE
ADELLE'S ACCUSATION brought a murmur of
consternation and shocked surprise from the crowd.
Mr. Blake, however, seemed undisturbed. Dropping
on his knees, he supported Adelle and wrapped his
coat about her trembling shoulders. -
“There, there, my poor child,” he said soothingly.
“You are quite upset, and for good reason.”
“Don’t touch me,” Adelle shivered, cringing away.
“You’re mean and cruel!” -
By this time, Miss Anderson and other officials of
the Riverview Home had reached the scene. Some-
what sternly they tried to silence the child.
“She doesn't know what she is saying,” Miss An-
derson apologized to Mr. Blake. “Adelle has been
very nervous since she was in an automobile accident.”
“I quite understand,” the real estate man responded.
“The child must have a change of clothing, and no
doubt, medical care. May I send her to the Home in
my car?”
|
I55


TRAILING A FUGITIVE I 59
be mistaken, a conviction was growing upon her that
Clyde Blake could have been the hit-run driver.
“Even if he doesn't drive a gray car, that proves
nothing,” she mused. “He easily could have changed
it during the past year.” !
Penny thought that she might find her father or
some of the Camp Board officials still at the river.
However, as she drove into the parking area, she ob-
served that the grounds were entirely deserted. Paper
plates, napkins and newspapers had been blown helter-
skelter by the wind. Picnic tables still held the un-
sightly remains of lunches. The speakers' platform
had been torn down, even the tents were gone, for
it was not planned to make practical use of the
grounds until more work had been done.
As Penny was starting to drive away, she noticed a
lone man near one of the picnic tables. He was
dressed in rough, unpressed garments, and seemed to
be scavenging food which had been left behind.
“That's the same man who pulled Adelle from the
water!” she thought alertly.
Leaping from the car, Penny ran toward him.
Hearing footsteps, the man turned and saw her.
Almost in panic he started for the woods.
“Wait!” Penny shouted. “I won't turn you over to
the police! Please wait!”
The man hesitated, and then apparently deciding
that he had nothing to fear from a girl, paused.
*
...


TRAILING A FUGITIVE 161
I
. “I could tell plenty if I was a mind to do it. No
one would believe me though.” . -
“I will, Mr. Davis.”
“I was in the notion of going to the Grand Jury at
one time,” the man said slowly. “That’s what brought
on all my trouble. ' If I’d had sense enough to have
kept my mouth shut, I wouldn’t be a fugitive now.”
“What connection did you have with the Hoods?
Were you a member of the organization?”
“Yes, I was,” the man admitted reluctantly. “I
didn’t know much about the Hoods when I joined ’em.
Then I tried to drop out, and that’s what turned ’em
against me.”
“Suppose you tell me all about it. What is the real
purpose of the organization?”
“Well, right now the Hoods are trying to force
every truck farmer in this district to join the County
Cooperative.”
“Then Hank Holloway must be the ring leader!”
Penny exclaimed, startled by the information.
“No, he’s not atthe head of the Hoods,” Clem Davis
corrected.
“Who is the man?” Penny questioned eagerly.
Clem Davis started" to. speak, then hesitated. An
automobile had driven into the parking area only a few
rods away. Several workmen who had been assigned
to clean up the grounds, alighted.
“They’re coming this way,” Clem Davis said un-
easily. “I can’t risk being seen.”


I64 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
-- -
- 5-.-
(l
Not yet, but I expect to find out when I "meet
Clem Davis tomorrow.” '
“I’ll go with you,” Mr. Parker declared. “Maybe
I should take Sheriff Daniels along too.” '
“Oh, Dad,” Penny protested indignantly. “I prom-
ised to help Clem, not turn him over to an oflicer. I
am afraid that unless I go alone, he’ll not even show
himself.”
“Perhaps it would be best for you to go by yourself,”
the editor admitted. “Learn what you can from Davis,
and make an appointment for him to see me.”
Another matter weighed heavily on Penny’s mind.
In her encounter with Clyde Blake that morning, she
had acted in a high-handed manner, and sooner or
later her father must hear about the cheque episode.
“Dad, I have a confession to make,” she began
awkwardly. “When I reached the camp this morning
I found that Mr. Blake had induced the board mem-
bers to buy the property—”
“Never mind,” Mr. Parker interrupted. “I’ve al-
ready heard the details of your disgraceful actions
from Mrs. Van Cleve.”
“I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself,” Penny said
contritely. “I tore up the cheque on the spur of the
moment.”
“It was a foolish, rather dramatic thing to do. How-
ever, I must acknowledge the result was highly
pleasing to everyone save Clyde Blake.” -
“What does he have to say, Dad? ”


CLEM DAVIS’ DISCLOSURE 165
H
He claims that he acted in good faith for Benjamin
Bowman. Likewise, that he had no suspicion the title
was faulty.”
“Naturally he would take such an attitude.”
“I’ve asked Blake to produce Ben Bowman,” Mr.
Parker resumed. “Unless he can do so and prove that
the property actually is owned by him, the deal is off.”
“Do you think Blake will bring the man to River-
view?”
“I doubt it very much,” the editor answered. “I
suspect he’ll bluff, and finally let the deal goby default.
It will be an easy way out for him.” '
“Blake always seems to escape his misdeeds. I wish
we could find Ben Bowman ourselves, and bring the
two men together. That would be interesting!”
“Finding Ben Bowman would serve many useful
purposes,” Mr. Parker said grimly. “But now that I
would actually welcome a communication from him,
he no longer pesters me!”
Eagerly Penny awaited the hour appointed for her
meeting with Clem Davis. Knowing that the man did
not obtain enough to eat, she spent considerable time
the next afternoon preparing a lunch basket of sub-
stantial food. Taking it with her, she waited at the
camp site for nearly a half hour. Finally, just as she
began to think that the man had failed her, he appeared.
“I’ve brought you some hot coffee,” Penny said,
taking the plug from a thermos bottle. “A little
food too.”


166 THE CLock striKEs THIRTEEN
*
“Say, that's swell!” the man murmured gratefully.
“My wife slips me a handout whenever she can, but
lately the house has been watched so closely, she can't
get away.”
Seating himself at the picnic table, Clem Davis
drained the cup of coffee in a few swallows, and
greedily devoured a sandwich.
“Now what do you want to know?” he asked
gruffly.
Mr. Parker had told Penny exactly what questions
to ask. She began with the most important one.
“Mr. Davis, tell me, who is the head man of the
Hoods?”
“I don't know myself,” he answered promptly.
“At the meetings, the Master always wore a robe and
a black hood. None of the members ever were per-
mitted to see his face.”
“You have no idea who the man may be?”
Clem Davis shook his head as he bit into another
sandwich. “I doubt there are more than one or two
members of the order who know his identity. Hank
Holloway might, or maybe Charley Phelps.”
“Is Phelps a member?” Penny asked quickly.
“One of the chief ones. Most of the meetings are
held at his place.”
“You don’t mean at the Hubell Tower?”
Penny's pulse had stepped up to a faster pace, for
the information was of the greatest value. Further-


168 THE CLOCK srnncns THIRTEEN
Il
Mr. Davis,” she said quietly, replacing the watch
fob in her pocket. “I believe in‘ your innocence, and
I want to help you. I am sure I can, providing you
are willing to cooperate.”
“I’ve already told you about everything I know.”
“You’ve given me splendid information,” Penny
praised. “What I want you to do is to talk with my
father. He’ll probably ask you to repeat your story
to the Grand Jury.”
“I’d be a fool to do that,” Clem Davis responded.
“I can’t prove any of my statements. The Preston
fire would be pinned on me, and the Hoods might try
to harm my wife. Why, they ran off with a truck load
of our melons the other night.”
“I know. But unless someone has the courage to
speak out against the Hoods they’ll become bolder
and do even more harm. Supposing you were prom-
ised absolute protection. Then would you go before
the Grand Jury?”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure. But who
can guarantee I’ll not be made to pay?”
“I think my father can,” Penny assured him. “Will
you meet him here tomorrow night at this same hour?”
“Okay,” the man agreed, getting up from the table.
“You seem to be on the level.”
“I’ll bring more food tomorrow,” Penny said as
an extra inducement. “You must have had a hard time
since you’ve been hiding out in the woods.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad once you get used to it,” the


CHAPTER
21
A BROKEN PROMISE
“YOU WANT me to take you to the abandoned car
now?” Clem Davis echoed in surprise. “It’s located
deep in the swamp, just off a side road.”
“Would it require long to get there?” Penny asked
thoughtfully.
“A half hour at least. With night coming on you
wouldn’t be able to see a thing.”
“It is getting dark,” Penny admitted regretfully.
“Everything considered, I guess it would be better to
Wait until tomorrow. But in the meantime, I wish you
would search the car carefully. Get the engine num-
ber—anything which might help to identify the "
owner.”
“The engine number has been filed off,” Clem
answered. “I’ll give the car a good going over though ‘
to see what I can learn. Thanks for the food.” .
Raising his hand in a semi salute, the man started
into the woods.
“Don’t forget to meet Dad and me tomorrow night,”
I70


A BROKEN PROMISE . 171
Penny called after him. “We'll be waiting here about
this same time.”
The interview with the fugitive had more than ful-
filled Penny's expectations. Driving straight home,
she made a full report of the talk to her father. Breath-
lessly, she revealed that the Hoods held monthly meet-
ings at the Hubell Tower, and that both Hank Hol-
loway and Charley Phelps were members of the or-
der. |
“You weren’t able to learn the name of the head
man?” Mr. Parker questioned.
“No, Clem didn't know it himself. He says the
Master never shows himself to anyone, but always
appears in mask.” -
Mr. Parker began to pace the floor, a habit of his
when under mental stress. The information Penny
had acquired was of utmost importance. He be-
lieved it to be authentic, but he dared not overlook
the possibility that Clem Davis had deliberately lied.
“We must move cautiously on this story,” he said
aloud. “Should we make false accusations against
innocent persons, the Star would face disastrous law-
suits.”
“You’re not going to withhold the information from
the public?” Penny demanded in disappointment.
“For the present, I must. The thing for us to do
is to try to learn the identity of the head man. Any
news published in the Star would only serve as a tip-
off to him.”


174 THE CLoCK STRIKEs THIRTEEN
thing Davis told you may not have been for the pur-
pose of deception.”
“He seemed sincere. I can't believe he deliberately
lied to me.” -
Submerged in gloom, Penny had little to say during
the swift ride into Riverview. She could not blame
her father for feeling annoyed, because the trip had
cost him two hours of valuable time. Clem Davis’
failure to appear undoubtedly might deprive the Star
of a spectacular scoop.
“Never mind,” Mr. Parker said to comfort her.
“It wasn't your fault. We'll find another way to get
our information.”
The car proceeded slowly through the downtown
section of Riverview. Turning her head to read an
electric sign, Penny's attention was drawn to a man
in a gray suit who was walking close to the curb.
“Dad, stop the car!” she cried, seizing his arm.
“There he is now!”
“Clem Davis?” Mr. Parker demanded, swerving the
automobile toward a vacant space near the sidewalk.
“No! No! Ben Bowman! I'm sure it is hel”
Springing from the car, Penny glanced up the street.
She had alighted just in time to see the man in gray
enter a telegraph office.
“What nonsense is this?” Mr. Parker inquired im-
patiently. “Why do you think the fellow is Bow-
man?”


A BROKEN PROMISE 175
“I’m sure he's the same man I saw at Claymore. The
one who tried to pass a forged cheque! Oh, please
Dad, we can't let him get away!”
Switching off the car ignition, Mr. Parker stepped
to the curb.
“If it should prove to be Ben Bowman, nothing
would please me better than to nab him,” he announced
grimly. “But if you've made a mistake—”
“Come on,” Penny urged, seizing his hand. “We
can talk about it later.”
- Through the huge plate glass window of the tele-
graph office, the man in gray could be seen standing
at one of the counters. His back was to the street and
he appeared to be writing a message.
“I’m sure it's Ben Bowman,” Penny said again.
“Why not go inside and ask him if that's his name?”
“I shall. But I'm warning you again, if you've
made one of your little mistakes—” -
“Go ahead, faint heart!” Penny chuckled, giving
him a tiny push. “I’ll stay here by the door ready to
stop him if he gets by you.”
With no appearance of haste, Mr. Parker sauntered
into the telegraph office. Deliberately taking a place
at the counter close beside the man in gray, he pre-
tended to write a message. Actually, he studied his
companion, and attempted to read the lengthy tele-
gram which the other had composed. Before he could
do so, the man handed the paper to a girl clerk.


I76 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
1
“Get this off right away,” he instructed. “Send it
collect.”
The clerk examined the message, having difiiculty in
reading the writing.
“This night letter is to be sent to Anthony Parker?”
she inquired.
“That’s right,” the man agreed.
Mr. Parker waited for no more. Touching the man
on the arm, he said distinctly:
“I’ll save you the trouble of sending that message.
I am Anthony Parker.”
The man whirled around, his face plainly showing
consternation.
“You are Ben Bowman I assume,” Mr. Parker said
coolly. “I’ve long looked forward to meeting you.”
“You’ve got me mixed up with someone else,” the
man mumbled, edging away. “My name’s Clark
Edgewater. See, I signed it to this telegram.”
As proof of his contention, he pointed to the lengthy
communication which lay on the counter. One glance
satisfied Mr. Parker that it was another “crank” mes-
sage.
“I don’t care how you sign your name,” he re-
torted. “You are Ben Bowman. We have a few
matters to talk over.” ‘
The man gazed uncertainly at Mr. Parker. He
started to speak, then changed his mind. Turning,
he made a sudden break for the exit.
I


A BROKEN PROMISE 177
“Stop him!” Mr. Parker shouted. “Don’t let him
get away!”
Penny stood close to the door. As the man rushed
toward her, she shot a bolt into place.
“Not quite so fast, Mr. Bowman,” she said, smiling.
“We really must have a chat with you.”


\ CHAPTER
22
THE MAN IN GRAY
VVITH THE door locked, the man saw that he could
not hope to escape. Accepting the situation, he re-
garded Mr. Parker and Penny with cold
“All right, my name is Ben Bowman,” he acknowl-
edged, shrugging. “So what?”
“You’re the man who has been sending me collect
messages for the past three months!” Mr. Parker ac-
cused.
“And what if I have? Is there any law against it?
You run a lousy paper, and as a reader I have a right
to complain!” -
“But not at my expense. Another thing, I want to
know what connection you’ve had with Clyde! Blake.”
. “Never heard of him.” ‘
“Then you don’t own property in this city?”
“Nor anywhere else. Now if you’re through giving
me the third degree, I’ll move on.”
“Not so fast,” interposed Penny, refusing to unbar
the door, “if I’m not mistaken you’re the same man
178


180 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
intimated that if I told what I knew about Blake you’d
let me off. Why, you’re as yellow as that paper you
run!”
“I make no deals with men of your stamp!” Mr.
Parker retorted.
As Penny unlocked the door, Ben Bowman made a
break for freedom. However, the editor was entirely
prepared. Seizing the man, he held him until Penny
could summon the policeman. Still struggling, Bow-
man was loaded into a patrol wagon and taken to
police headquarters.
“I guess that earns me a nice little one hundred
dollars!” Penny remarked as she and her father went
to their own car. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re entirely welcome,” Mr. Parker grinned. “I
never took greater pleasure in acknowledging a debt.”
“VVhat’s your next move, Dad? Will you expose
Clyde Blake in tomorrow’s Star?” '
“I’m tempted to do it, Penny. The evidence still is
rather flimsy, but even if Ben Bowman denies his story,
I think we can prove our charges.”
“It’s a pity you can’t break the Hood yarn in the
same edition,” Penny said musingly. “What a front
page that would make!” t
“It certainly would be a good three pennies worth,”
Mr. Parker agreed. “Unfortunately, it will be many
days before the Hoods are supposed to hold their
meeting at the Tower.”


I 82 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“Why not test what he told us?” Penny argued.
“It will be easy to learn if the striking of the clock
is a signal to call the Hood meeting. If the men should
come, we'll have them arrested, and run a big story
tomorrow morning!”
“Coming from your lips it sounds so very simple,”
Mr. Parker smiled. “Has it occurred to you that if
we fail, we'll probably breakfast at the police station?”
“Why worry about that?” grinned Penny. “You
have influence.”
Mr. Parker sat for several minutes lost in thought.
“You know, I’ve ALWAYS been lucky,” Penny
coaxed. “I feel a double dose of it coming on to-
hight!”
“I believe in hunches myself,” Mr. Parker chuckled.
“No doubt I'm making the biggest mistake of my life,
but I'm going to try your wild scheme. Crazy as it
is, it may work!”
“Then let's go!” laughed Penny.
At the Star office, Mr. Parker hastily summoned a
special staff of newspaper men, warning them to hold
themselves in readiness to get out a special edition on
short notice. From the group he chose Salt Sommers, f
Jerry Livingston, and two reporters known for their
pugilistic prowess.
“Now this is the line up, boys,” he revealed. “We're
going to kidnap Charley Phelps from the Tower. It's
risky business unless things break right for us, so if any
- *-*.


THE MAN IN GRAY 183
of you want to drop out now, this is your chance.”
“We're with you, chief!” declared Salt Sommers,
tossing a pack of photographic supplies over his
shoulder. . /
“Sure, what are we waiting for?” chimed in Jerry.
It was well after eleven o'clock by the time the over-
loaded press car drew up not far from the Hubell
Tower. Penny parked on a dark side street, and
Jerry was sent to look over the situation. Soon he re-
turned with his report.
“Charley Phelps is alone in the Tower,” he assured
the editor. “We shouldn't have any trouble handling
him.”
“Okay, then let's do the job,” Mr. Parker returned,
“Remember, if we muff it, we'll do our explaining to
a judge.” |
Separating into groups so that they would not at-
tract attention, Penny and the five men approached
the Tower. A light glowed from within, and the
caretaker could be seen moving about in the tiny
living room. -
Tying handkerchiefs over their faces, Salt and Jerry
rapped on the back door. Charley Phelps opened it
to find himself gazing into the blinding light of two
flashlights.-
“Say, what—” he began but did not finish.
Jerry and Salt had seized his arms. Before he could
make another sound, they shoved a gag into his mouth,


*:::
CHAPTER
23
A TRAP SET
TO PENNY'S sensitive ears, the sound which re-
sulted from the hammer blow, seemed weak and lack-
ing in resonance. She sagged back against the iron
railing, feeling that she had failed.
“That was swell!” a low voice said in her ear. “A
perfect thirteenth stroke!”
Turning around, Penny saw that Jerry Livingston
had followed her into the belfry.
“Did it really sound all right?” she inquired anx-
iously.
“It was good enough to fool anyone. But the
question is, will it bring the Hoods here?”
In the room far below, Mr. Parker had lowered the
blinds of the circular windows. Making certain that
Charley Phelps was securely bound and gagged so
that he could make no sound, he opened the front
door a tiny crack and left it that way.
“How about the lights?” Salt Sommers asked.
“Leave them on. Shove that sound apparatus under
185


A TRAP star 187
newcomer. Muttering to himself, he moved restlessly
about for a few minutes. Finally seating himself, he
picked up a newspaper and began to read.
From their post in the belfry, Penny and Jerry soon
observed two other men approaching theitower. One
they recognized as a workman who had sorted melons
at the Davis farm, but his companion was unknown
to them. Without rapping, they too entered the
building.
“Where’s Charley?” inquired one of the men.
“That’s what I was wondering,” Hank Holloway
replied, tossing aside his paper. “For that matter, I
can’t figure out why this special meeting was called.
Something important must have come up.” _
Within ten minutes, three other men had arrived.
Jerry was able to identify two of them by name, but
he dared not risk whispering the information to Mr.
Parker who crouched on the stairway.
“There’s something mighty queer about this meet-
ing,” Hank Holloway growled. “Where is thg
Master? And what’s become of Charley?”
From the machinery room in which the caretaker
had been imprisoned came a slight thumping sound.
“What was that?” Hank demanded suspiciously.
“I didn’t hear anything,” answered one of the other
men. “Maybe it was someone at the door.”
Hank tramped across the room to peer out into the
night. As the door swung back; a dark figure moved
swiftly along the hedge, crouching low.


188 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
“VVho:s there?” Hank called sharply.
“Quiet, you fool!” was the harsh response.
A man wearing a dark robe and a black hood which
completely hid his face, brushed past Holloway, and
entered the Tower living room.
“Close the door!” he ordered.
Holloway hastened to obey. An expectant and
rather tense silence had fallen upon the men gathered
in the room.
“Now what is the meaning of this?” the Master de-
manded, facing the group. “Who called this meet-
ing?”
“Why, didn’t you?” Holloway asked blankly.
“I did not.”
(l
All I know is that I heard the clock strike an extra
stroke,” Holloway explained. “I thought it was queer
to be having another meeting so soon. Then I found
Charley wasn’t here—”
“Charley not here!” the Master exclaimed.
“He must have stepped out somewhere. The lights
were on, and the door partly open.”
“I don’t like this,” the Master said, his voice harsh.
“Charley has no right to call a meeting without a spe-
cial order from me. It is becoming increasingly dan-
gerous for us to gather here.”
“Now you’re talking!” Holloway nodded. “An-
thony Parker of the Star is on the Warpath again. One
of his reporters has been prying into the books of the
County Cooperative.”


A TRAP SET 189
“He’ll learn nothing from that source, I trust.”
“Not enough to do any harm.” .
“You act as though you had a grievance, Holloway.
Any complaints?”
“Why, no, the Cooperative has made a lot of money
since you’ve taken over. We want to go along with
you, if your flare for the dramatic doesn’t get us in
too deep.”
“What do you mean by that, Holloway?”
“This night riding business is getting risky. Why,
if Clem Davis should talk—”
“We’re not through with him yet.”
“Another thing, most of us never did approve of
holding meetings here at the Tower,” Hank Holloway
went on. “It’s too public a place, and sooner or later
someone will start asking questions about what goes
on.” '
“Anything else?” _
“Well, we think you ought to show yourself—let
us know who you are. We’re all in this together, and
we ought to take the same risks. I’ve been carrying
the heavy end.”
“That settles it! ” the masked man said with finality.
“We’re through.”
“How do you mean?” Holloway asked.
“We’re breaking up the organization—now—
tonight.” .
“There’s no call to do that.”
“Holloway, you do a lot of talking and not much


190 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
thinking,” the other snapped. “This will be our last
meeting. We’ll divide the profits, and for a time at
least, remain inactive.”
“That’s all very well for you,” Holloway com-
plained. “You step out of it without anyone even
knowing who you are. But some of us are tied up
with the County Cooperative. If there’s any investi-
gation, we’ll take the rap.”
“There will be no investigation.”
“That’s easy to say,” Holloway argued. “I don’t
like the way things have been going lately. If We’re
breaking up, we have a right to know who you are."
“Sure,” chimed in another. “Remove your mask,
and let’s have a look. We think we have your num-
ber but we ain’t positive.”
“You never will be,” the masked man returned
coolly, backing toward the door. “And now, good-
night.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Holloway cried, trying to
head him ofi.
“Stand back!” ordered the Master harshly.
From beneath his robe he whipped a revolver.
“All right,” Holloway sneered. “I never argue
when I’m looking into a muzzle.”
Before the Master could retreat, there was another
disturbance from inside the machinery room. Un-
mistakably, the door rattled.
“Someone is in there!” Holloway exclaimed.


| A TRAP SET I9 I
Startled, the Master postponed his flight. Still hold-
ing the revolver, he tried to open the door, but found
it locked.
For those hiding on the stairway, the situation had
become a tense one. In another moment, the mem-
bers of the Black Hoods unquestionably would break
the door lock and find Charley Phelps. -
“Let's take 'em, Chief!” whispered Jerry, who was
eager for action. “Now is our only chance.”
“All set!” Mr. Parker gave the signal.
With a concerted rush, the four young men leaped
down the stairway, hurling themselves on Holloway
and the masked man. Catching the latter unaware,
Jerry knocked the revolver from his hand and it went
spinning over the floor.
Penny started down the stairway, but Mr. Parker
pushed her back.
“Stay where you are!” he ordered as he too joined
the fray.
Penny huddled against the wall, watching fearfully.
Her father and the reporters outnumbered their op-
ponents by one man, but the Hoods were all strong,
powerful fellows who fought desperately. A chair
crashed against the lamp, shattering it. In the result-
ing darkness, she no longer could see what was hap-
pening.
Suddenly a figure broke away from the general
tangle of bodies and darted toward the circular stair-
-- - - - -


CHAPTER
24-
TIMELY HELP
AS THE black-robed man started up the stairway,
Penny attempted to block his path. Failing to trip
him, she seized his arms and held fast.
“Out of my way!” the man cried, giving her a hard
push.
Penny clung tightly and struggled to reach the hood
which covered his face. -
Suddenly, the man jerked free and darted on up the
steep, circular stairway. Pursuing him, Penny was
able to seize the long flowing black robe, only to have
it tear loose in her hands.
Gaining the first landing, midway to the belfry, the
man did not hesitate. Swinging his legs through an
open window, he leaped to the ground twenty feet
below.
“He'll be killed!” Penny thought.
Reaching the window she saw the man lying in a
heap at the base of the tower. For a moment he re-
mained motionless, but as she watched, he slowly
scrambled to his feet and staggered off.
I93


196 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
when the editor pounded with his fist, no one came to
admit him.
“Someone is inside,” Penny declared, peering up at
the lighted window. “It must be Blake.” \
Mr. Parker tried the door and finding it unlocked,
stepped boldly into the living room.
“Blake!” he shouted.
On the floor above Mr. Parker and Penny heard the
soft pad of slippered feet. The real estate man, garbed
in a black silk dressing gown, gazed down over the
balustrade.
“Who is there?” he called.
“Anthony Parker from the Star. I want to talk
with you.”
Slowly Clyde Blake descended the stairway. His
gait was stiff and deliberate.
“You seem to have injured your leg,” Mr. Parker
said significantly.
“I stumbled on the stairway not fifteen minutes
ago,” Blake answered. “Twisted my ankle. May I
ask why I am honored with a visit at this hour?”
“You know why I am here!” Mr. Parker retorted,
reaching to switch on a living room light.
“Indeed, I don't.” Deliberately Blake moved away
from the bridge lamp into the shadow, but not before
both Penny and her father had noted a long, ugly
scratch across his cheek.
“It's no use to pretend,” Mr. Parker said sharply.


TIMELY HELP 1§7
Kl
I have all the evidence I need to convict you of being
a ringleader of the Hoods.”
“You are quite mad,” the real estate man sneered.
“Parker, I’ve put up with you and your methods quite
long enough. You queered my deal with the Orphans‘
Camp Board. Now you accuse me of being a mem-
ber of a disreputable organization. You must be out
of your mind.”
“You’ve always been a good talker, Blake, but this
time it will get you nowhere. My reporters were at
the Hubell Tower. I have a complete sound record
of what transpired there. Either give yourself up, or
the police will take you by force.”
“So you’ve notified the police?”
“I have.”
“In that case—” Blake’s smile was tight. With a
dextrousness which caught Penny and her father com-
pletely off guard, he whipped a revolver from beneath
his dressing robe. “In that case,” he completed,
“we’ll handle it this way. _ Raise your hands, if you
please.”
“Your politeness quite overpowers me,” the editor
said sarcastically, as he obeyed.
“Now turn your back and walk to the telephone,”
Blake went on. “Call the police station and tell the
chief that you made a mistake in asking for my arrest.”
“This will get you nowhere, Blake.”
“Do as I say!”


2OO THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
away. “This is all a trick to build up circulation for
the Star. If there is such an organization as the Black
Hoods, Clem Davis is the man who heads it!”
Penny and Mr. Parker felt very grateful to the fugi-
tive who had come to their aid at such a timely mo-
ment. They wished to help him if they could, but
they knew he could not escape arrest. Clem Davis
realized it too, for he made no protest when told that
Sheriff Daniels must be called.
“I’m ready to give myself up,” he repeated. “I was
a member of the Hoods, but I never went along with
them once I learned that they meant to defraud the
truck farmers. I hope I can prove my innocence.”
Within a few minutes Sheriff Daniels arrived to as-
sume charge of his prisoner. Entertaining no sym-
pathy for the man, he told Penny and her father that
in all likelihood Davis must serve a long sentence.
“He's wanted for setting fire to the Preston barn,”
the sheriff insisted. “Unless he can prove an alibi for
himself, he hasn’t a chance.”
“Can't you tell where you were at the time of the
fire?” Mr. Parker asked the man.
• ? - ??
“I was at a place called Toni’s.
“Why, that's right, Dad!” Penny cried. “Don’t
you remember? We saw Davis leave the place, and
he was followed by two men—probably members of
the Hood organization.”
“We saw a man leave there shortly after midnight,”
Mr. Parker agreed.


TIMELY HELP 2OI
“You wouldn’t swear he was Clem Davis?” the
sheriff asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mr. Parker admitted truthfully.
“However, it's obvious that a man scarcely could have
gone from Toni's at that time and still set fire to the
barn. My daughter and I drove directly there, and
when we arrived the building had been burning for
some time.” -
“All of which proves nothing unless you can show
that Clem Davis actually was at Toni's after midnight.”
“Could the owner of the place identify you?” Penny
thoughtfully inquired.
“I doubt it,” Davis answered. “It might be worth
a try, though.”
“Perhaps I can prove that you weren't near the
Preston farm at midnight!” Penny exclaimed as a sud-
den idea came to her. “Clem, you heard the Hubell
clock strike the hour?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How many strokes were there?”
“Thirteen,” Davis answered without hesitation. I
counted them and figured the Hoods were having one
of their get-togethers.”
“What is this?” the sheriff demanded in bewilder-
Iment. - -
“We can prove that the Hubell clock did strike
thirteen on that particular night,” Penny resumed.
“It was a signal used by the Hoods, but that's not the
point.”


CHAPTER
25
SPECIAL EDITION
LIGHTS BLAZED on every floor of the Riverview
Star building, proclaiming to all who passed that an-
other special edition was in the process of birth.
Pressmen industriously oiled the big rotaries ready for
a big run of papers, linotype men, compositors, re-
porters, all were at their posts, having been hastily
summoned from comfortable beds.
In the editor's office, Penny sat at a typewriter ham-
mering out copy. Jerking a long sheet of paper from
beneath the roller, she offered it to her father.
“My contribution on the Hubell Clock angle,” she
said with a flourish.
Mr. Parker rapidly scanned the story, making a
number of corrections with a blue pencil.
“I should slug this editorial material,’” he remarked
with a grin. “Quite a plug you’ve put in for Seth
McGuire—suggesting that he be given back his old
job as caretaker of the Tower.”
“Well, don't you think it's a good idea?” *.
“The old man will get his job back—I'll see to that,”
203


204 THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
Mr. Parker promised. “But the front page of the
Star is not the place to express wishful thinking.
We’ll reserve it for news if you don’t mind.”
Crossing out several lines, Mr. Parker placed the
copy in a pneumatic tube, and shot it directly to the
composing room. He glanced at his watch, noting
aloud that in exactly seven minutes the giant presses
would start rolling. _
“Everything certainly has turned out grand,” Penny
sighed happily. “Hank Holloway and Clyde Blake
are sure to be given long prison sentences for their
Black Hood ‘activities. You’ve promised to see that
Old Seth gets his job back, so that part willend beau-
tifully. He’ll adopt Adelle and I won’t need to worry
about her any more.”
“What makes you think Seth will adopt the
orphan?” Mr. Parker asked curiously.
“Why, he’s wanted to do it from the first. He hesi-
tated because he had no steady work, and not enough
money. By the way, Dad, how long will it take to
learn the owner of that automobile license plate that
Clem Davis gave us?”
“Jerry is trying to get the information now, Penny.
All the registry offices are closed, but if he can pull
some official out of bed, there’s a chance he may ob-
tain the data tonight. I’m not counting on it, how-
ever.”
The door of the oflice swung back and City Editor
DeWitt hurried into the room.
."_'