Penny Nichols Finds a Clue Part 19

"I might stop a little while," Penny agreed.

Despite Betty's somewhat queer actions, she had liked the girl from the very first, and was eager to become better acquainted.

The Davis home was modestly furnished, yet with excellent taste. Penny could not refrain from referring to the clever color scheme which had been carried out so successfully in the living room.

"I'm glad you like it," Betty smiled. "You see, I'm studying to be an interior decorator."

"Why, how interesting."

"I attend night school," Betty explained. "Or rather I did. Just now Father is a little pressed for money so I've given it up for a few months."

"I hope you'll be able to go on with it again."

"Yes, so do I, for it's the one ambition of my life. I think after Jimmie is a little older it will be easier. Just now he's at the age where he feels he must have fine clothes and plenty of spending money."

"Perhaps you're too indulgent a sister," Penny smiled.

"Jimmie is only a year younger than I," Betty explained, "but since Mother died five years ago, I've always felt responsible for him.

Lately I've been terribly worried."

"On account of the company he keeps?"

"Yes, that and other things." Betty arose and nervously crossed over to the fireplace. "I don't mean to unburden myself upon you, but lately Jimmie has been doing wild things. Father doesn't half suspect the truth. I'm half sick with trying to decide if I should tell him or not."

"Probably it would relieve your mind if you did," Penny advised kindly.

"Yes, but Father has always taken such pride in Jimmie. I can't bear to hurt him."

"Perhaps he could bring your brother to his senses."

"I'm afraid it may be almost too late. Jimmie is so headstrong. He won't listen to anyone. He's changed so much the last few months."

"It seems to me that your father should know the truth," Penny said quietly.

Betty Davis' face had grown slightly pale.

"I realize I should tell him," she acknowledged, "but I can't. There's a special reason why--don't ask me to explain." Abruptly, she tried to change the subject, saying lightly: "My brother is very handsome, I think. Would you care to see his photograph?"

"Indeed I would," Penny returned politely.

She waited while Betty went into an adjoining room after it. As the girl returned, a car was driving slowly past the house.

"That must be Father," Betty declared, moving toward the window.

Penny heard the automobile halt at the curbing. The next instant a hard object crashed through the windowpane, dropping with a thud at Betty's feet. Almost by a miracle she had escaped being struck by the flying splinters of gla.s.s.

Penny sprang to her feet, rus.h.i.+ng to the door. She caught only a fleeting glimpse of the retreating car.

Betty was staring at a piece of paper which lay upon the carpet. It had been wrapped around a small stone.

"You read it," she begged Penny. "I'm afraid."

Penny reached down and picked it up. The message had been printed on cheap brown wrapping paper. It bore the warning:

"JEROME DAVIS, THIS IS THE LAST WARNING YOU WILL RECEIVE FROM US.

WE GIVE YOU TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO CHANGE YOUR MIND."

"It's a threat from the Molberg gang!" Betty declared tensely as Penny finished reading the message aloud. "Oh, I'll never feel easy again until every member of that outfit has been placed behind bars! What do you think they will do when Father defies them?"

"Probably nothing," Penny comforted. "Most anonymous notes are sent by cowards and the threats seldom carried out. At least Dad doesn't regard them very seriously. He's been threatened by the Molberg gang too."

"And have they made no attempt to harm him?" Betty asked.

"Not to my knowledge. Dad seems more than able to look after himself, and I'm certain your father knows how to protect himself too."

"He should," Betty admitted. "He's one of the best marksmen on the police force."

"Then I think Rap Molberg is the one who should be on his guard," Penny smiled.

By making light of the threatening note she tried to relieve Betty of anxiety. Her efforts were not very successful. When she left the house a half hour later the girl was still excited and overwrought.

Not until Penny was nearly home did it occur to her that she had forgotten to look at the photograph of Jimmie Davis.

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," she thought.

As she drove the roadster into the garage, Mrs. Gallup came down the path to meet her.

"I'm sorry to be so late," Penny said quickly before the housekeeper could take her to task. "A million and one things detained me. Dad's home, I suppose?"

"No, he isn't. But someone has been trying to get you on the telephone for the past hour."

"Probably it was Dad."

"It may have been, but it didn't sound like his voice. Listen, isn't that the phone now?"

They could hear the bell ringing inside the house. Penny ran to answer it. As she took down the receiver, she was greeted by a masculine voice. But it was not the detective who had telephoned.

"Is this Miss Nichols?" she was asked.

"Yes," Penny returned quietly, aware from the other's tone that she must prepare herself for bad news.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Nichols, but your father has been hurt."

"Oh! Badly?"

"We're not sure yet. He is still unconscious. Can you come at once?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Which hospital?"