Penny Nichols And The Knob Hill Mystery Part 3

"I don't see how you ever found such an isolated place as this, Dad,"

Penny remarked as the car labored up the steep incline. "We'll practically be hermits up here."

"So much the better," laughed the detective.

The car rounded a curve in the road, and Penny saw a large, rambling old house with many cupolas, set back amid a grove of evergreen trees.

"That must be Herman Crocker's home," she remarked, turning her head to stare at it. "A gloomy old place."

"Young Walter Crocker had quite a walk if he came up here tonight,"

said the detective. "Too bad he didn't wait. We could have hauled him right to his door."

"I'm just as glad he went off," declared Penny. "Somehow I felt very uneasy when he was riding with us."

The car b.u.mped on until Mr. Nichols saw a narrow lane leading to a tiny cottage on a knoll.

"This must be our little nest," he said, turning in.

The cottage was a plain white frame building with a cobblestone chimney overgrown by vines. Even at night the grounds appeared unkempt.

Several loose shutters flapped in the wind.

Penny and her father stepped from the car and stood staring at the cottage. The low whistle of the wind in the evergreens added to the depressing effect.

"How much rent are we paying for this mansion, Dad?"

"Fifteen a week. But everything is supposed to be furnished."

"Including cobwebs and atmosphere," laughed Penny. "Well, any sum for this tumble-down, antiquated wreck would be robbery! Why, the cottage looks as if it hadn't been occupied in a dozen years."

"I may have been stung," the detective admitted ruefully. "But let's hope it's better inside."

Mr. Nichols carried the suitcases up the weed-choked path. He fumbled in his pockets for the key and finally found it. Mr. Kilkane had told them to enter by the kitchen door.

As it swung back on squeaking hinges, Penny and her father caught a whiff of stale air.

"Just as I thought!" exclaimed Penny. "The place hasn't been opened up in weeks."

Mr. Nichols pa.s.sed through the doorway into the dark kitchen. He groped about for the electric light switch and could not find it.

"Wait here," he told Penny. "I'll have to go back and get Mr.

Kilkane's lantern."

"I'll wait outside the door. It's too stuffy in here."

Penny stood on the sagging porch until her father returned with the lighted lantern. The bright beam illuminated a wide circle of barren kitchen. An old cook stove occupied one corner of the room; there was a plain table with four chairs and a make-s.h.i.+ft sink with old-fas.h.i.+oned pump. The floors were without carpet or linoleum. Every piece of furniture was covered by several inches of dust.

"Wait until I see that man Kilkane!" said Mr. Nichols indignantly.

"Why, the electricity hasn't even been turned on. We can't live in a place like this!"

"Let's look at the other rooms, Dad."

There was no dining room, as the builder evidently had intended that the occupants should eat in the kitchen. The living room had a large fireplace but no other item of comfort. The three chairs were all straight-backed, the carpet was moth-eaten and dusty, and a small table still bore a vase filled with shriveled flowers which someone had forgotten to throw away.

"Come along, Penny," said Mr. Nichols starting toward the door. "We'll not stay here."

"But where will we go?" Penny placed a detaining hand on his arm.

"There's no hotel in the village."

"It would be more pleasant sleeping in the car."

"You know we'd be stiff in every muscle if we tried that, Dad. Let's open a few windows. It won't seem so bad then."

Mr. Nichols raised several windows and they were then able to breathe more freely. An inspection of the adjoining bedrooms left them somewhat encouraged. The mattresses were fairly soft, and Penny found clean linen in one of the bureau drawers.

"I can have these beds made up in just a few minutes," she said cheerfully. "And we can bring in our own blankets from the car."

"Maybe that would be best," the detective agreed. "But we'll leave in the morning."

Penny was abroad at daybreak the next morning. While her father still slept, she explored the grounds, discovering a deep and rather lovely ravine not far from the cottage door. To the right stretched a dense wood and only a short distance on up the road was the summit of k.n.o.b Hill.

"This place really isn't half bad by daylight," she told herself. "Dad would be certain to get a complete rest here."

Penny went back into the house and set about cleaning up the kitchen.

She had just finished the task when Mr. Nichols appeared in the doorway.

"Are there any mirrors in this place?" he asked irritably. "I'd like to know how I'm to get my whiskers cut off!"

"Why not let them grow?" giggled Penny. "I think you'd look real cute with a beard!"

"Oh, you do?" demanded her father.

"There's a looking gla.s.s over the sink," Penny told him. "And plenty of water if you like it cold."

"Why not heat some on the stove?"

"That would be a good idea," Penny admitted, "only I can't find any matches. And apparently one is expected to cut down a tree for wood!"

"We're starting right back to Belton City as soon as I've shaved," said Mr. Nichols firmly.

"No, I've changed my mind about this place, Dad," Penny replied quickly. "If our landlord, Mr. Crocker, will only fix things up, it won't be half bad."

"The cottage would need to be rebuilt to make it comfortable. I doubt that Mr. Crocker will consent to do that."

"He might clean it up for us, furnish wood and clean bedding, and see that the lights are turned on," Penny said. "We could get along then.

It wouldn't hurt us to rough it for a few weeks."

"I guess I am too much attached to my comforts," Mr. Nichols smiled.

"So you really are willing to stay?"