gives me heart failure, figuring she will.”

“Dad, I’m sorry to have annoyed you,” Penny said quickly before he could get in another word. “I was out at the swamp with Louise.”

“The swamp!”

“Gathering flowers for the banquet table,” Penny added hastily. “Oh, Dad, they’re simply beautiful—so much nicer than any florist could have supplied.”

“I can imagine.” Mr. Parker smiled and looked at the wall clock. “We’re due at the theater in ten minutes. I’m chairman of the program, unfortunately.”

Penny gently broke the news. “Dad, I haven’t had time to decorate the banquet table at the hotel. Will you drive me there?”

“I can’t,” Mr. Parker said, slightly exasperated. “I’m late now. Have one of the photographers take you. By the way, where’s Salt Sommers?”

Hearing his name spoken, a young photographer whose clothes looked as if he had slept in them, moved out from behind a newspaper he had been reading.

“Coming right up, Chief,” he answered.

“Run my daughter over to the Hillcrest Hotel,” the publisher instructed. “Make it your job to see that she reaches the theater promptly.”

“I guess I can handle her,” Salt said, winking at Penny.

“And now, where is Jerry?” the publisher asked. “Has anyone seen him?”

“Relax, Dad,” said Penny. “He’s right here.”

“I am jumpy tonight,” Mr. Parker admitted, “but I have a lot on my mind. That stunt we’ve planned for the entertainment of our out-of-town men—is everything set?”

“Sure,” DeWitt assured him. “There’ll be no hitch. As the mayor winds up his address of welcome, the stage electrician turns off the stage lights. Jerry, in view of the audience, orders him to turn ’em on again. He refuses an’ they argue over union rules. The fight gets hotter until finally the workman pulls a revolver and lets him have it full blast. Jerry falls, clutching his chest. Our newsboys gallop down the aisles with copies of the Riverview Star and screaming headlines telling all about the big murder. Everyone gets a swell laugh, figuring it’s pretty snappy coverage.”

“You certainly make it sound corny the way you tell it,” Mr. Parker sighed. “Who thought up the idea anyhow?”

“Why, you did, Chief,” grinned Salt. “Remember?”

“It was a poor idea. Maybe we ought to call it off.”

“After we got the extras all printed an’ everything?” Mr. DeWitt asked, looking injured. “The boys went to a lot of trouble.”

“All right, we’ll go ahead just as we planned, but I hope there is no slip-up. How about the revolver?”

“Right here,” said Salt, whipping it from an inside pocket. “Loaded with blanks.” He pointed it at a neon light, pulled the trigger and a loud bang resulted.

Jerry Livingston sauntered over. “So that’s the lethal weapon,” he observed. “Can I trust you guys not to slip a real bullet in when I’m not looking?”

“I’ve got to go,” cut in Mr. Parker, looking again at the clock. “The program starts as soon as I get to the theater. Speeches should take about an hour. Then the stunt. And don’t be late!”

“We’ll be there,” Salt promised. “Jerry, you riding with Penny and me?”

“I’ll come later in my own car. Have a story to write first.”

Going back to his typewriter, the reporter slipped carbons and paper into the machine and began pecking the keys.

At that moment a Western Union boy came through the newsroom. Catching Penny’s eye, he pushed a telegram toward her and asked her to sign.

She wrote her name automatically, before noticing that the envelope bore Jerry’s name.

“For you,” she said, tossing it onto the roller of his typewriter. “More fan mail.”

“It’s probably a threat to bring suit if I don’t pay my dry cleaning bill,” Jerry chuckled.

He glanced at the envelope briefly, then slit it up the side. As he read the wire, his face became a study. His jaw tightened. Then he relaxed and laughed.

“This is a threat all right,” he commented, “but not from the dry cleaners!”

Jerry reread the telegram, snorted with disgust, and then handed it to Penny.

In amazement she read: “ARRIVED IN TOWN TODAY TO TAKE CARE OF A LITTLE UNFINISHED BUSINESS. WILL BE SEEING YOU.”

The telegram bore the signature, Danny Deevers.

CHAPTER
4
A TRAFFIC ACCIDENT

As word spread through the office that Jerry had received a threat from the escaped convict, reporters gathered to read the telegram and comment upon it.

“Great stuff!” exclaimed Editor DeWitt, thinking in terms of headlines. “Riverview Star reporter threatened by Danny Deevers! We’ll build it up—post a reward for his capture—provide you with a bodyguard.”

“But I don’t want a bodyguard,” Jerry retorted. “Build up the story if you want to, but skip the kindergarten trimmings.”

“You ought to have a bodyguard,” DeWitt insisted seriously. “Danny Deevers is nobody’s playboy. He may mean business. Reporters are hard to get these days. We can’t risk having you bumped off.”

“Oh, this telegram is pure bluff,” Jerry replied, scrambling up the yellow sheet and hurling it into a tall metal scrap can. “I’ll not be nursemaided by any bodyguard, and that’s final!”

“Okay,” DeWitt gave in, “but if you get bumped off, don’t come crying to me!”

Jerry took a long drink at the fountain and then said thoughtfully: “You know, I have a hunch about Danny.”

“Spill it,” invited DeWitt.

“He didn’t come back here to get even with me for those articles I wrote—or at least it’s a secondary purpose.”

“Then why did he head for Riverview?”

“I have an idea he may have come back to get $50,000.”

“The money he stole from the Third Federal Bank?”

“Sure. The money disappeared, and when Danny took the rap, he refused to tell where he had hidden it. I’ll bet the money is in a safe place somewhere in Riverview.”

“You may be right at that,” DeWitt agreed. “Anyway, it’s a good story. Better write a couple pages before you go over to the theater—let that other stuff go.”

Jerry nodded and with a quick glance at the clock, sat down at his typewriter.

“Ready, Penny?” called Salt, picking up his camera and heading for the door.

“In a minute.”

Penny hesitated and then walked over to Jerry’s desk.

“Jerry, you’ll be careful, won’t you?” she asked anxiously.

“Oh, sure,” he agreed. “If I see Danny first, I’ll start running.”

“Do be serious, Jerry! You know, there’s a chance Danny may be hiding in the swamp.”

The carriage of Jerry’s typewriter stopped with a jerk. He now gave Penny his full attention.

“What’s that about Danny being in the swamp?”

“I didn’t say he is for sure, but today when Louise and I were out there, we heard a very strange conversation.”

Penny swiftly related everything that had occurred on the tiny island near the swamp entrance. She also described the bearded stranger who had ordered her away.

“That couldn’t have been Danny,” Jerry decided. “Not unless he’s disguised his appearance.”

“There was another man,” Penny reminded him. “Louise and I never saw his face.”

“Well, the swamp angle is worth investigating,” the reporter assured her. “Personally, I doubt Danny would