Read Ebook: Penny Nichols and the Knob Hill Mystery by Clark Joan

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Ebook has 735 lines and 36361 words, and 15 pages

Approaching dusk found Penny and her father still several miles from Knob Hill.

"I thought we'd be settled in our cottage by this time," said Mr. Nichols, frowning. "Perhaps we ought to spend the night at a hotel."

"We can decide about that when we reach Knob Hill," Penny replied. "But let's stop somewhere for an early supper. Otherwise, we'll have to buy supplies and carry them with us."

Mr. Nichols turned in at the next roadside cafe. He and Penny enjoyed an excellent meal and then went on once more toward Knob Hill.

It was nearly dark by this time. As they rounded a sharp curve, Mr. Nichols reached down to switch on the headlights. At the same moment Penny gave a little cry of alarm.

"Oh, Dad! There's a car in the ditch!"

Mr. Nichols slammed on the foot brake, for he had seen the wreck at the same instant. A high-powered blue sedan lay on its side in the rain-gutted ditch to the right of the road. One tire was down, and Mr. Nichols judged that a blow-out had caused the accident.

"I wonder if anyone was hurt?" Penny gasped.

Just then a short, squat little man in a long gray overcoat and felt hat stepped out from behind the overturned car. He held up his hand as a signal to Mr. Nichols.

"I see you've had an accident," said the detective as he brought his own car to a standstill at the side of the road. "Anything we can do to help?"

Penny could not see the stranger's face clearly, for his soft felt hat was pulled low over his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was husky.

"Sure, you can give me a lift if you will. My tire blew out when I was doing seventy. First thing I knew I was in the ditch."

"You're lucky it wasn't a worse accident," replied the detective.

"What's lucky about it?" demanded the stranger irritably.

"Your car doesn't appear much damaged," replied Mr. Nichols, studying the man curiously. "And you don't seem to be hurt. You easily might have been killed traveling at that speed."

"What is this--a lecture in motor safety?" asked the man angrily.

"Not at all," said Mr. Nichols. "Did you say you wanted a ride?"

"Yes; how far are you going?"

"Only to Knob Hill."

"I'll ride along that far anyway," said the stranger.

"My name is Christopher Nichols," the detective introduced himself, "and this is my daughter, Penny."

"Pleased to meet you," muttered the man, without looking directly at either of them. He hesitated, and then added: "I'm Walter Crocker."

"The name sounds familiar," commented Mr. Nichols.

"You may be thinking of my uncle, Herman Crocker. He's well known in these parts."

"I don't believe I know him," replied the detective.

"I'd not get so excited if I were you," interrupted Mr. Nichols calmly. "You're probably upset because of the accident."

"It did shake me up a bit," replied Crocker, with an abrupt change of tone.

"Just climb in and we'll take you to town with us," Mr. Nichols invited.

Penny started to move over so that the man could sit beside her.

"Never mind," he said quickly. "I'll ride in the rumble."

"It's not very comfortable," Mr. Nichols warned.

"No matter. I'd rather sit back there."

He climbed into the rumble and Mr. Nichols drove on down the road. Now and then when Penny would glance back through the glass she could see the man gazing intently at her. His scrutiny made her feel very uncomfortable. She wondered if her father shared the feeling. Mr. Nichols was paying close attention to the road, and his masklike face revealed none of his thoughts.

Soon the car drove into the little sleepy village of Kendon which had been settled at the foot of Knob Hill.

"Look for Judd Kilkane's real estate office," the detective told Penny.

"There it is!" she cried a moment later. "On the north side."

Mr. Nichols parked the car in front of the building.

"I'll be back in just a minute," he said to Walter Crocker. "I want to get the key to our cottage from Judd Kilkane."

The man in the rumble made no reply. He sat hunched over in the seat, head bent low.

"Wait a minute, Dad," called Penny. "I'll go with you."

They entered the building, which was little more than a one-story frame shack. The door had been left unlocked, yet Judd Kilkane's office appeared to be deserted.

"This is annoying," said Mr. Nichols. "He's probably out to supper, but it means we may have a long wait."

"We ought to tell Walter Crocker," returned Penny. "Dad, I don't like that fellow. He gives me the creeps."

"He is a bit queer," the detective admitted with a short laugh.

"No," interrupted Mr. Nichols, "I don't think he's an escaped crook or anything of the sort. Even if he were, I'd not be interested. This is my vacation."

"Oh, all right," laughed Penny. "I was just thinking aloud."

Mr. Nichols opened the door and they walked toward the car together. Suddenly Penny halted, staring toward the rumble seat.

"Why, Dad!" she exclaimed. "Walter Crocker has gone!"

Helping a Stranger

Christopher Nichols saw for himself that the rumble seat was empty. He looked quickly up and down the village street. Walter Crocker was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, that fellow certainly did a speedy disappearing act," the detective commented. "We weren't inside the real estate office five minutes."

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