off the bridge. Jerry, will you write it for the paper?”

“The story isn’t worth more than a few lines, Penny. We can’t say that Munn was pushed off the bridge.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Munn would deny it, and then the Star would appear ridiculous.”

“If I owned a paper, I certainly would use the story,” declared Penny. “Why, it has wonderful possibilities.”

“I fear your father never would agree. You talk him into printing the yarn and I’ll be glad to write it.”

“Oh, I suppose we must forget about it,” Penny grumbled. “All the same, I’d like nothing better than to work on the story myself.”

Reaching the pavement, they cleaned mud from their shoes before walking on to the waiting taxi. Louise immediately plied them with questions, displaying particular interest in the octopus tattoo.

“Do you suppose the man knew who pushed him off the bridge?” she inquired thoughtfully.

“I’ll venture he did,” replied Penny. “Probably that was the reason he wouldn’t tell.”

The taxi crossed the bridge and made slow progress away from the river. As the road gradually wound toward higher ground, the fog became lighter and the driver was able to make faster time. A clock chimed the hour of eleven.

“How about stopping somewhere for a bite to eat?” Jerry suddenly proposed.

“Won’t Dad be waiting at the Star office?” Penny asked.

“He suggested that I keep you girls entertained until around eleven-thirty if I could.”

“That being the case, we’ll accept your invitation with alacrity,” laughed Penny. “How about the Golden Pheasant?”

“Oh, no, you don’t! Phillip’s Bean Pot is nearer my speed.”

A block farther down the street Jerry paid the driver and escorted the girls into a clean but low-priced restaurant.

“No item on the menu over ten cents,” he chuckled. “Do your worst. I can take it.”

Penny and Louise ordered sandwiches, while the reporter fortified himself with a plate of scrambled eggs, two doughnuts, and a cup of coffee. Returning to the front counter for a forgotten napkin, he nodded carelessly at an elderly man who sat alone, sipping a glass of orange juice.

The man acknowledged the greeting in an embarrassed way, quickly lowering his head. Within a few minutes he left the café.

“Jerry, who was he?” Penny inquired curiously. “I am sure I’ve seen him before, yet I can’t remember where.”

“That was old man Judson. Matthew Judson.”

“Not the former publisher of the Morning Press!”

“Yes, the old man’s been going to pieces fast since he closed his newspaper plant. Looks seedy, doesn’t he?”

“His clothes were a bit shiny. I thought he seemed rather embarrassed because you spoke to him.”

“Old Judson feels his come-down I guess. In the flush days he wouldn’t be caught dead in a beanery.”

“Is he really poor, Jerry?”

“Probably down to his last hundred thousand,” the reporter grinned.

“What you say is conflicting,” declared Penny impatiently. “First you imply that Mr. Judson is poor, and then that he’s rich. I wish you would make up your mind.”

“Frankly, I don’t know. Judson owns a fine home on Drexell Boulevard which he’s allowed to run down. I’ve been told he sold the Morning Press building several months ago. Some say he has plenty of cash salted away, others that he’s broke.”

“How did he lose so much of his money, Jerry?”

“No one seems to know for certain. According to rumor he plays the stock market heavily.”

“It’s strange he closed down the Morning Press,” Penny remarked thoughtfully. “I always thought it was a profitable paper.”

“So did everyone else. The Press had a large circulation. But one bright Monday morning Judson posted a notice, closed the plant, and threw over a thousand employes out of work.”

“That was nearly a year ago, wasn’t it, Jerry?”

“Thirteen months to be exact. Why this sudden interest in Judson?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Penny replied vaguely. “His case seems rather pathetic. Then, too, he reminds me of someone I’ve seen recently. I wish I could recall—”

Jerry glanced at the wall clock, swallowing his coffee with a gulp.

“Time to move along,” he announced. “We mustn’t keep your father waiting, Penny.”

They left the café and Jerry hailed a passing taxicab.

“It’s only four blocks to the Star building,” protested Penny. “Aren’t you being too lavish with your money, Jerry?”

“Oh, I’ll add this item to my expense account,” he laughed. “Jump in.”

The taxi turned left at Adams street, rolling slowly through the downtown business section. Jerry peered from the car window at a large, four-story stone building which occupied a corner.

“That place sure looks like a morgue these days,” he commented. “The Morning Press.”

Penny and Louise likewise twisted sideways to stare at the dark, deserted building. Windows were plastered with disfiguring posters and the white stone blocks, once so beautiful, were streaked with city grime.

“When the Press closed, machinery, furniture and everything else was left exactly as it stood,” remarked Jerry. “Too bad an enterprising newspaper man doesn’t take over the place before it’s a complete loss. The present owner doesn’t even employ a watchman to protect the property.”

“It does seem a shame—” Penny began, only to break off. “Why, that’s funny!”

“What is?” inquired Jerry.

Penny had turned to glance back at the Morning Press plant.

“The building isn’t deserted!” she exclaimed. “There’s a light in one of the upstairs rooms!”

CHAPTER
4
A PROSPECTIVE TENANT

Jerry rolled down the window beside him and, thrusting his head through it, glanced back at the Morning Press building.

“Where do you see a light?” he demanded.

“It was on the third floor,” declared Penny. “I can’t see it myself now.”

Jerry grinned as he settled back into his place between the two girls. “You certainly get a kick out of playing jokes,” he accused.

“But it wasn’t a joke, Jerry. Honestly, I saw a light. Didn’t you, Louise?”

“Sorry, but I didn’t. I’m afraid your imagination works overtime, Pet.”

“I know what I saw,” insisted Penny.

As Jerry and Louise smiled, she lapsed into injured silence. However, she was certain she had not been mistaken. Distinctly she had observed a light on the third floor, a moving light which had been extinguished before her companions had noticed it.

The car presently drew up at the curb in front of the Star building. Anthony Parker, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm, stepped from the vestibule where he had been waiting. He was a tall, slender man, alert and courageous in following his convictions. Under his management the Riverview Star had grown to be one of the most influential papers in the state.

“Hope we haven’t kept you waiting, Mr. Parker,” Jerry greeted him, swinging open the cab door.

“Only a minute or two. Thanks, Jerry, for bringing the girls from the boat. May we offer you a ride home?”

“No, thanks, Chief. I’ll walk from here. Good evening.”

Jerry tipped his hat politely to Penny and Louise as the cab drove away. Mr. Parker asked the