"I'll get the things for you," said Herman Crocker as they reached the kitchen door. "Just wait here."

Penny was a little surprised because the old man did not invite her into the house.

"It won't take me long," he said, deliberately closing the door behind him.

Penny seated herself on the steps of the sagging porch and kept her eye upon Herman Crocker's dog which had stationed himself only a few feet away.

"That animal is vicious," she thought uneasily. "I don't see why Crocker keeps him around."

Hearing a slight sound Penny gazed toward the right and was surprised to observe a small boy peering at her from the corner of the house. He was tall and very thin but did not appear to be more than nine or ten years of age.

"h.e.l.lo there," said Penny in a friendly voice.

"h.e.l.lo," answered the boy. He moved slowly toward her, staring rather blankly.

"You're not Mr. Crocker's little boy?" Penny asked, hoping to draw him into conversation.

"I'm his grandson."

"Oh, his grandson," repeated Penny, studying the lad with interest. He bore slight resemblance to Herman Crocker. "And is Rudy your dog?"

"No!" replied the lad bitterly. "I hate him. If I tried to go away from here he'd attack me. My grandfather has trained him to do that."

Penny was not certain that she had understood correctly. She could not believe that Herman Crocker deliberately kept his grandson a prisoner on the property.

"You don't mean----" she began, but the words died away.

The kitchen door had opened. Herman Crocker stood scowling at his grandson.

"Perry!" he said harshly. "Get inside! There's work to be done!"

"Yes, sir," replied the boy meekly.

With a frightened glance directed toward Penny he scuttled into the house. Mr. Crocker closed the door again.

"I do believe that old man was afraid to have me talk with his grandson!" Penny thought shrewdly. "How strange!"

She did not have long to reflect upon the queer actions of her new landlord, for in a very few minutes he reappeared with an armload of linen and blankets.

"I've telephoned the electric company for you," he told her. "Your lights ought to be on before night."

"And will you have the cottage cleaned for us?" Penny requested.

"I can't do the work myself," scowled the man. "But if you want to get Mrs. Masterbrook, I'll pay the bill."

"Who is she?" inquired Penny.

"I'll give you her address. She does cleaning work by the day."

Penny was not very well pleased with the arrangement because it meant that she must make a special trip to find Mrs. Masterbrook. However, there seemed no other way since the landlord had proved himself to be such an unaccommodating person.

"You'll likely be going in to town sometime to-day?" ventured Mr.

Crocker as Penny turned to leave.

"Why, I imagine so. We'll need supplies."

The man hesitated, and then said in a tone which he tried to make sound casual: "It might be just as well for you not to mention to folks that you saw my nephew. Not that I have any secrets to keep. I just don't like folks nosing into my affairs. Anyway, Walter's gone now and it's no one's business but my own."

"I am a stranger in the community," replied Penny. "I'd have no occasion to speak of your nephew."

"That's what I thought," said Herman Crocker in a tone of relief.

"Well, if there's anything more you need, let me know. And I'll see that you get a supply of wood before nightfall."

"Thank you," Penny responded.

She permitted herself a smile as she walked down the lane with the arm load of bedding. It was easy enough to see why Mr. Crocker had become so obliging. He expected a favor in return--her silence regarding Walter Crocker.

"He acts almost as if he is ashamed of his nephew," she thought. "I wonder why he doesn't wish folks to learn about him."

Mr. Nichols had finished shaving by the time Penny reached the cottage.

"Well, I hope you rounded up some breakfast for us," he remarked.

Penny shook her head as she dropped the pile of linen on the table.

"No such luck, Dad. I asked Mr. Crocker for so many things I didn't try to get any food. He's the strangest man!"

"What's so strange about him?"

"I suspect he's a miser or something of the sort. Anyway, he keeps a wicked looking dog and goes around the premises with a shotgun. He won't let his grandson talk with strangers, either."

"You didn't learn much, did you?"

"Well, I didn't have a very good chance," Penny grinned. "You see, he wouldn't let me into the house. I had to wait on the porch while he brought the things."

"Penny, are you making all this up?"

"Of course not!" she retorted indignantly. "Wait until you meet Mr.

Crocker. He's a very mysterious character."

"Then I'd just as soon not meet him," laughed the detective. "In my present mood he'd not interest me a bit."

"I'll tell you about the practical results of our talk," smiled Penny.

"We're to have all the wood we need and our electric lights should be hooked up by nightfall. Mr. Crocker has promised to pay for having the cottage cleaned. He gave me the name and address of a woman who will do the work."

"That's fine," said the detective. "If she's any good as a housekeeper, why not hire her ourselves by the week? Then you'd be free to roam around and have a good time."

"The idea sounds all right to me," Penny declared quickly. "To tell you the truth, I don't know much about cooking on an old-fashioned stove."