Penny Nichols Finds a Clue Part 32

"If I can get up there I might be able to see what is going on inside,"

she thought.

Even on tiptoe she could not reach the window. Going down to the river she found an old orange crate which had washed up on the bank.

Carrying it back to the window she set it underneath and climbed up.

She peered into the building. The window opened directly into a dark, deserted little room, but directly beyond she could observe several men moving about. It was impossible to see what they were doing.

Thinking that perhaps she might overhear their conversation, she pried at the window. To her surprise it was readily raised.

But she could hear only a low murmur of voices. It was impossible to distinguish a single phrase.

"I might just as well be a million miles away as here," she told herself. "I have a notion to climb inside."

Penny took after her father in that she seldom experienced the sensation of fear. She knew well enough that she was taking a grave risk in entering the building, yet if she were to learn anything which would aid Mr. Nichols in his case against the automobile accessory thieves, she must be courageous.

Naturally agile, Penny raised herself to the ledge by sheer strength of her arms. She hesitated an instant, then dropped lightly down inside the sawmill.

She moved a few steps forward, then returned to quietly close the window. While it cut off her escape, she realized that the open window would be a telltale sign should anyone notice it.

She crept toward the adjoining main room from whence came the low murmur of voices. Secreting herself behind a tall pile of old sawed boards, she peered through the doorway.

The truck had pulled up at one side of the room. Several rough looking men were engaged in unloading the wheels. Penny's eyes fastened upon the man who directed the others. It was Rap Molberg.

"Get a move on!" he ordered tersely. "We can't stall around all night."

The wheels were trundled out one by one from the rear end of the truck, and the men, six in all, fell to work with their tools, defacing the serial numbers and subst.i.tuting others. Penny watched in fascination.

Her gaze wandered to Jerry Barrows who had driven the truck to the sawmill. He sat apart, apparently taking no interest in what was going on.

Somewhere in the building a telephone rang. As one of the men came toward her, Penny shrank down behind the pile of lumber. He pa.s.sed so close that she could have reached out and touched him had she chosen.

The man went into a small anteroom and Penny heard him answer the telephone. She could not distinguish the words, but presently he returned to the main room.

"It was the big boss," he reported to Rap Molberg. "He called from Somm Center."

"What's he doing there?" Rap demanded irritably. "Doesn't he think I'm capable of handling this end?"

"He's on his way here now," the other informed. "He says he has a hot tip that Christopher Nichols is wise to our hideout!"

"That snooper!" Molberg snarled. "I should have known he was up to something when he left town so suddenly."

"The cops may be down on us any minute."

"Then we're getting out of here without leaving any evidence behind!"

Molberg snapped. "Get busy, men!"

All fell to work with a will save Jerry Barrows.

"You!" Rap shouted angrily. "This is no time for loafing!"

"I agreed to drive a truck, but I didn't say I'd deface tires and help with your thieving!" the boy retorted bitterly. "I'm sick and tired of the whole deal."

"Oh, so you're sick and tired of it, are you?" the other echoed sarcastically. "You're in this the same as the rest of us, and if we go to the pen, you go with us! Now get to work or I'll----"

He left the threat unsaid, for just then an automobile engine was heard outside the building. Everyone froze in an att.i.tude of listening.

Molberg dropped his tools and ran to peer out through a tiny peep-hole in the wall.

"It's all right," he said in relief. "It's the boss. He must have burned up the road getting here from Somm Center."

The wide doors were flung open and a high-powered motor car drove into the building. George Brunner alighted.

"There's no time to waste," he informed tersely. "Load up those wheels and get them out of here!"

"We haven't finished defacing the numbers," Molberg told him.

"We can't stop for that. The important thing is to get this place cleared of evidence before the police pounce down on us."

Quickly the wheels which had been unloaded were stacked back into the truck. Brunner turned sharply upon Jerry Barrows.

"There's your load!" he snapped. "Get going with it!"

The boy made no move to obey.

"Did you hear?" Brunner snarled.

"I heard," Jerry Barrows retorted coldly, "but I'm not driving that truck out of here tonight. I'm through!"

"We'll see about that!" Brunner came toward him menacingly.

The boy cringed in terror but stood his ground.

"I've been thinking it over," he said determinedly. "I'd rather go to jail than keep on as I have. I've driven my last truck load of stolen wheels!"

Brunner caught him roughly by the shoulder.

"You're yellow!" he sneered. "But I know how to handle your kind.

I'll just let your father hear that his son has become a thief! How will you like that?"

All color had drained from the boy's face. In the light from the workmen's torches, it appeared almost ghostly.

"You know it will just about kill my father if he learns the truth!"

"Then you'll do as I say!"

The boy hesitated, seemingly almost on the verge of giving in. Then he threw back his head defiantly.

"No, I've made up my mind! I'm through for good!"