"I think you'd have a grand rest here."

"And what would you do, Penny?"

"Oh, cook and hike. I'd manage to keep occupied."

"You're being a good sport about this," the detective said gravely.

"For myself, I'd not mind staying here. It's a change and that's what I need."

"Then it's settled," laughed Penny. "While you're shaving, I'll run down and see our landlord. Perhaps I can borrow a few supplies from him too."

Mr. Nichols tossed her the car keys.

"No, I'll walk," Penny called over her shoulder as she left the cottage. "I need the exercise."

By daylight the old Crocker home was nearly as gloomy as when viewed amid the shadows. Penny paused at the entrance of the narrow, rutty lane and stared at the place. Everything was quiet. The blinds were all drawn and she could see no one moving about.

"It looks almost as if no one were here," she thought.

The winding lane led through the trees to the house and on either side were rows of tall, uncut privet hedge.

Suddenly as Penny walked hurriedly along, she was startled to see a lean, yellow hound hurl itself over the top of the hedge directly in her path. She stopped short. The animal bared his fangs, growling low.

Penny was not afraid of dogs as a usual thing, but she had never seen a more vicious looking hound. She had every reason to believe that if she tried to go on up the lane he would attack.

Penny reached down and seized a stout stick. She did not know whether to try to advance or retreat.

As she was eying the hound speculatively, Penny heard another sound directly behind her. She whirled about to see an old man with intent dark eyes watching her from beyond the hedge. Only his face was visible for the dense green foliage completely screened his body.

"What do you want here?" asked the old fellow in a harsh voice. "Who are you?"

CHAPTER III

A Queer Old Man

"My name is Penelope Nichols," the girl introduced herself after she had recovered from astonishment. "Are you Mr. Crocker?"

"I am," replied the old man grimly. "What do you want here?"

"Why, my father and I rented your cottage," Penny told him quickly.

"Would you mind calling off your dog? He acts as if he'd enjoy chewing me to pieces."

"Rudy has been trained to attack anyone who tries to come up the lane,"

Herman Crocker said evenly.

He stepped through a gap in the hedge and spoke sharply to the hound.

Rudy went reluctantly to the side of his master.

Penny could not help but stare at the old man. He was short and stooped and his clothes were not very clean. She saw that he was carrying a shotgun.

Herman Crocker studied the girl shrewdly.

"What is it you want of me?" he asked gruffly. "I told Kilkane he was to handle everything about the cottage. I don't want to be bothered."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Crocker, but there are a few details which must be settled if my father and I are to remain."

"What's your complaint?"

"The electricity hasn't been turned on, Mr. Crocker. The cottage needs cleaning. There is no wood. I can't find half enough dishes or cooking pans. We'll need more linen and blankets."

"You can't expect me to fix up the place like it was a palace,"

complained the old man. "You're only paying fifteen dollars a week."

"If you're unwilling to do anything about it then we'll leave this morning." Penny turned to walk away.

"Here, wait," called the old man. "I'm willing to do anything that's reasonable. Come up to the house and I'll give you some clean linen."

Penny walked with Mr. Crocker up the lane, trying not to show that she felt uneasy. The old man caught her staring at his shotgun.

"I was hunting squirrels early this morning," he explained.

"Isn't this out of season?" Penny asked before she stopped to think.

Herman Crocker glanced at her with an expression which she was unable to fathom.

"Seasons make no difference to me," he answered shortly. "I go hunting when I please."

They walked on in silence. When they were near the house Penny said casually:

"Oh, by the way, my father and I met your nephew last night."

"My nephew?"

"Why, yes, Walter Crocker. He told us he was on his way to visit you."

Penny saw the old man glance quickly toward her. She could tell that her words had disturbed him.

"Oh, I couldn't think who you meant at first," he muttered. "Yes, Walter was here last night. But he's gone back to the city."

Penny allowed the subject to drop, yet she wondered if Herman Crocker were telling the truth. Had the younger man really visited his uncle for the purpose of claiming an inheritance? He had seemed very bitter toward the old fellow. From her observation of Walter Crocker she did not believe that he was a person who would be easily discouraged in his ambitious designs.

Penny had learned from past experience that if one wished to avoid trouble it did not pay to ask too many questions. More than once an inquiring turn of mind had involved her in strange adventures. Not so many months before this same trait of curiosity had drawn her into a detective case which had baffled the Belton City police. Her clever work, which resulted in the capture of a daring group of auto thieves, is recounted in the first volume of this series, "Penny Nichols Finds a Clue."

Even more recently, Penny had solved a mystery which concerned a queer sculptured figure called The Black Imp. By exposing an unscrupulous dealer in paintings who sought to betray his patrons, she saved many persons from being swindled and at the same time gained honor for herself.

At the moment, Penny was not eager to involve herself in trouble. She determined to say no more about Walter Crocker unless the old man reopened the subject.