After Mrs. Weems had finished with the phone he called the newspaper office only to be told that Jerry Livingston had not put in an appearance.

"At least he might have communicated with the office," Mr. Parker said as he hung up the receiver.

He went back to lawn mowing but paused now and then to stare moodily toward the Kobalt river which wound through the valley far below the terrace. Penny finished drying the dishes and went outside to join him.

"You're worried about Jerry, aren't you?" she asked after a moment.

"Not exactly," he replied. "But he should have been back long ago."

"He never would have stayed away without good reason. We both know Jerry isn't like that."

"No, he's either run into a big story, or he's in trouble. When I sent him away this morning, I didn't look upon the a.s.signment as a particularly dangerous one."

"And yet if he met those two seamen anything could have happened. They were tough customers, Dad."

"I could notify the police if Jerry isn't back within an hour or two,"

Mr. Parker said slowly. "Still, I hate to do it."

"Where did Jerry rent his boat, Dad?"

"I told him to get one at Griffith's dock at twenty-third street."

"Then why don't we go there?" suggested Penny. "If he hasn't come in we might rent a boat of our own and start a search."

Mr. Parker debated and then nodded. "Bring a heavy coat," he told her.

"It may be cold on the river."

Penny ran into the house after the garments and also took a flashlight from her father's bureau drawer. When she hurried outdoors again her father had backed his own car from the garage and was waiting.

At the twenty-third street dock, Harry Griffith, owner of the boat house, answered their questions frankly. Yes, he told them, Jerry Livingston had rented a motor boat early that morning but had not returned it.

"I been worryin' about that young feller," he admitted, and then with a quick change of tone: "Say, you're not Mr. Parker, are you?"

"Yes, that's my name."

"Then I got a letter here for you. I reckon maybe it explains what became of the young feller."

The boatman took a greasy envelope from his trousers pocket and gave it to the editor.

"Where did you get this, Mr. Griffith?"

"A boy in a rowboat brought it up the river about two hours ago. He said the young feller gave him a dollar to deliver it to a Mr. Parker. But the kid was mixed up on the address, so I just held it here."

"Dad, it must be from Jerry," said Penny eagerly.

As her father opened the envelope, she held the flashlight close. In an almost illegible scrawl Jerry had written:

"Following up a hot tip. Think I've struck trail of key men. Taking off in boat. Expect to get back by nightfall unless Old Man Trouble catches up with me."

Mr. Parker looked up from the message, his gaze meeting the frightened eyes of his daughter.

"Oh, Dad," she said in a tone barely above a whisper, "it's long after dark now. What do you think has become of Jerry?"

CHAPTER 18 _OVER THE DRAWBRIDGE_

Wasting no moments in useless conversation, Mr. Parker rented a fast motor boat and prevailed upon Harry Griffith to operate it for him.

Guided by the stars and a half moon which was slowly rising over the treetops, the party swung down the river.

Riding with the current, they came before long to the locality where Penny and Jerry had first sighted the two seamen's cruiser. But now there was no sign of a boat, either large or small.

At a speed which enabled the occupants to scrutinize the sh.o.r.eline, the searching craft swept on. The river had never seemed more deserted.

"Jerry might have stopped anywhere along here," Mr. Parker observed. "If he drew the boat into the bushes we haven't a chance of finding him."

They went on, coming presently to the Kippenberg estate. As they pa.s.sed beneath the open drawbridge Penny noted how low it had been swung over the water. A boat with a high cabin could not possibly go through when the cantilevers were down.

Gazing upward, she saw a swinging red light at the entrance to the bridge. A lantern, no doubt, hung there to give warning to any motorist who might venture upon the private road.

"Th.o.r.n.y probably isn't on duty at this hour," Penny reflected. "But I should think an open drawbridge might prove more dangerous at night than in the daytime."

As the bridge was lost to view beyond a bend in the river, she gave all her attention to watching the coves and inlets. Her father sat hunched over in the seat beside her, slapping at mosquitoes. Now and then he would switch on the flashlight to look at his watch.

Gradually the river had widened, so that it was possible to cover only one sh.o.r.e.

"We'll search the other side on our return trip," Mr. Parker said. "But it looks to me as if we're not going to have any luck."

As if to add to the discouragement of the party, dark clouds began to edge across the sky. One by one the stars were inked out. Penny's light coat offered scant protection from the cold wind.

And then, Harry Griffith throttled down the motor and spun the wheel sharply to starboard. He leaned forward, trying to pierce the black void ahead of the boat's bright beam.

"Looks like something over there," he said pointing. "Might be a log. No, it's a boat."

"I can't see anyone in it!" Penny cried. "It's drifting with the current."

"That looks like one of my boats, sure as you're born," Griffith declared, idling the engine. "The same I rented the young feller this morning."

"But where is Jerry?" cried Penny.

Griffith maneuvered his own boat close to the one which drifted with the current. Mr. Parker was able to reach out and grasp the long rope dangling in the water.

"The flashlight, Penny!" he commanded.

She turned the beam on, and as it focused upon the floor of the boat, drew in her breath sharply. On the bottom, face downward, lay a man.

"It's Jerry!" Penny cried. "Oh, Dad, he's--"