we ready to start?”

“Just a minute,” Penny requested. “I have to get my pocketbook from the house.”

She went indoors, her face as dark as a summer rain cloud. Mrs. Weems and Louise followed her in, corraling her in the kitchen.

“Now Penny, just a word of advice,” the housekeeper cautioned. “Mrs. Deline seems like a very nice woman. I trust that you’ll be pleasant to her.”

“I don’t see why Dad had to invite her! It’s ruined everything!”

“Aren’t you being selfish?”

“Maybe I am,” said Penny. “But why should I be crammed back with the pots and pans and luggage while she sits up front with Dad?”

“Mrs. Deline is your guest.”

“She’s Dad’s guest,” Penny corrected. “Furthermore, I suspect she invited herself.”

“Whatever you think, I hope you’ll keep your thoughts to yourself,” Mrs. Weems said severely. “I’m really ashamed of you.”

The deep scowl disappeared from Penny’s face and she laughed. Wrapping her arms about the housekeeper’s ample waist she squeezed until it hurt.

“I know I’m a spoiled brat,” she admitted. “But don’t worry. I’ll pretend to like Mrs. Deline if it kills me.”

“That’s much better, Penny. At any rate, you’ll not be troubled with her company long. You’ll reach Sunset Beach by nightfall.”

Penny made no reply. She turned to say goodbye to Louise.

“Wish you were going along,” she said wistfully. “A vacation won’t seem fun without you.”

A staccato toot of the auto horn reminded Penny that her father and Mrs. Deline were waiting. Hurriedly she gathered up her purse.

“Have a nice time,” Louise said, kissing her goodbye. “And don’t let Mrs. Deline get in your hair.”

Penny turned to make certain that Mrs. Weems was beyond hearing.

“Don’t worry about that, Lou,” she whispered. “Mrs. Deline’s already in my hair. What I’m really worried about is keeping her from building a nest in it!”

CHAPTER
2
STORMY WEATHER

For an hour the Parker car had rolled smoothly along the paved road enroute to Sunset Beach. In the back seat, firmly wedged between boxes and suitcases, Penny squirmed and suffered.

“How much farther, Dad?” she inquired, interrupting an animated conversation he was having with Mrs. Deline.

“Oh, about fifty miles,” Mr. Parker tossed over his shoulder. “We can’t make much time at thirty-five an hour.”

“How about lunch somewhere along the road?”

“Well, should we take the time?” the publisher asked. He turned toward his companion. “What do you think, Mrs. Deline?”

“Picnics always seemed stupid to me,” she replied in a bored manner. “Perhaps we’ll find a nice tea house along the way.”

“But Mrs. Weems prepared such a good lunch,” Penny argued. “I thought—”

“We can use the food after we make camp,” Mr. Parker decided briskly. “A warm meal will be much better.”

Penny subsided into hurt silence. Since the party had left Riverview she felt that she had been pushed far into the background. Mrs. Deline had made no attempt to talk to her. On the other hand, the widow fairly hypnotized Mr. Parker with her dazzling smile and conversation.

“Dad,” Penny began, determined to get in a word, “just before you came home this afternoon, something queer happened.”

“That so?” he inquired carelessly.

“Yes, I turned on the radio, and a station I’d never heard before came in. The announcer said: ‘Attention Comrades, this is the Voice from the Cave.’”

“Sounds like a juvenile radio serial.”

“Oh, but it wasn’t, Dad! I’m sure it was an outlaw station. Then the announcer spoke very rapidly in a language I’d never heard before. It really sounded like code.”

“Sure you didn’t imagine it? You know you do get ideas, Penny. Especially when you’re on the prowl for a mystery to solve.”

“Aren’t children quaint?” Mrs. Deline laughed.

Penny’s lips tightened, but by great effort of will she kept silent. A child indeed! She knew now that Mrs. Deline disliked her and that they had launched an undeclared war.

“I heard the broadcast all right,” she said. “For that matter, so did Mrs. Weems and Louise. But probably it’s of no consequence.”

The subject was dropped. It was stuffy in the closed car and Penny presently rolled down a window. Immediately Mrs. Deline protested that the wind was blowing her hair helter-skelter. At a stern glance from her father, Penny closed the window again, leaving only a tiny crack for air.

“All the way, please,” requested Mrs. Deline.

“Penny, you’re being very, very difficult,” Mr. Parker added.

Penny rolled the window shut, but her blue eyes cast off little sparks of fire. As a rule, she was a very pleasant person, not in the least spoiled. In Riverview where she had lived for fifteen happy, eventful years, her friends were beyond count. Penny liked people and nearly everyone liked her. But for some reason, she and Mrs. Deline had taken an instant dislike to each other.

“Maybe I’m jealous,” Penny thought ruefully. “I shouldn’t be, but Dad’s all I have.”

Between Mr. Parker and his daughter there existed a deep bond of affection. Penny’s mother was dead and the noted publisher had devoted himself to filling the great void in the girl’s life. He had given her companionship and taught her to think straight. Knowing that she was dependable, he allowed her more freedom than most girls her age were permitted.

Penny adored her father and seemingly had inherited his love of newspaper work. Upon various occasions she had helped him at the Riverview Star, writing and obtaining some of the paper’s most spectacular front page stories. Only the past winter, following her father’s severe illness, she had acted as editor of the Star, managing the paper entirely herself.

“And now Dad and Mrs. Deline treat me as if I were a child!” she reflected resentfully.

Though very much upset, Penny kept her thoughts to herself. Curling up with her head on a pile of blankets, she pretended to sleep.

The car went over a hard bump. Penny bounced and opened her eyes. She was surprised to see that it had grown quite dark. The automobile was moving in a wide curve between long rows of pine trees.

“What time is it?” she asked, pressing her face to the window.

“Not so late,” replied her father. “We’re running into a rain storm. Just our luck.”

Dark clouds had entirely blotted out the late afternoon sun. Even as Mr. Parker spoke, several big raindrops splashed against the windshield.

Soon the rain came down in such a thick sheet that the road ahead was obscured. Stopping suddenly for a crossroads traffic light, the car went into a slight skid. Mrs. Deline screamed in terror, and clutched Mr. Parker’s arm.

“Oh, can’t we stop somewhere?” she pleaded. “I’m so afraid we’ll have an accident.”

“Yes, we’ll stop,” Mr. Parker agreed. “The storm is certainly getting worse.”

A short distance ahead the party glimpsed a group of buildings. One was a filling station and beside it stood a small three-story hotel and tea room.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Mr. Parker commented, pulling up close to the door. “We’ll have dinner and by that time the storm may be over.”

While Penny and Mrs. Deline went into the tea room, the publisher took the car next door to