"Has Anchor Joe talked?" Penny questioned. "You know what I mean. Has he said anything about John Munn or the tattoo?"

"Not a word. But every so often he mutters that he'll get even with someone by the name of Otto--a fellow sailor who 'ratted.'"

"He mentioned Otto when I was in the room," nodded Penny. "I wish we dared question Joe, but the doctor advised against it."

"I don't think we should annoy him now. Perhaps later on he'll tell us about the tattoo and its meaning."

"Perhaps," echoed Penny. "However, if I am any judge of character, Anchor Joe isn't the talkative type. As soon as he gets over the shock of this accident, he'll lock those lips of his. We'll learn nothing."

"Why are you so convinced there's a deep mystery connected with the tattoo?"

"I can't explain it, Lou. I just _know_ there is. I'll never rest until I learn the significance of those words, _All_ and _One_."

Within a half hour Mrs. Weems and Mr. Parker arrived at the cottage, bringing a supply of linen, food, and comforts for the injured man. The housekeeper agreed to a.s.sume charge until Anchor Joe could be safely removed to a hospital.

When Mr. Parker drove to Riverview the girls accompanied him. During the ride Penny questioned her father regarding Anchor Joe.

"I know almost nothing about him," he replied. "He was sent to me by the Acme Employment Agency, and I didn't bother to ask for a recommendation."

"I've learned that he's a friend of John Munn," revealed Penny. "As soon as he's able to get about again, I mean to ask him a number of things."

Mr. Parker drove Louise to her home, and at Penny's request dropped her off at the _Weekly Times_ office.

"By the way, what about dinner tonight?" he inquired. "Shall we dine at the Commodore Hotel?"

"Oh, Dad, I wish I could," Penny sighed wistfully. "Work is stacked a mile high on my desk. I'll just grab a sandwich somewhere and work late."

"I am afraid you are taking the newspaper business too seriously,"

replied her father. "Shall I leave the car for you?"

"It would be a help."

"All right, Penny."

Mr. Parker gave her the car keys, and walked on to his own newspaper.

Entering the _Times_ building, Penny spoke to several high school boys who were working in the advertising office, and climbed the stairs to her own office.

For the next half hour she checked over galley proofs, marking corrections on the margins.

"I never imagined there could be so many things to do on a weekly," she sighed. "One never gets through."

A board creaked in the newsroom. Penny heard it and glanced up. A shadow pa.s.sed slowly across the frosted gla.s.s of the office door.

"Come in," she called.

No one answered, and the shadow disappeared. Penny waited a moment, then impatiently arose and went to the door. The newsroom was deserted.

"Queer," she thought. "Someone walked past my office door."

Thinking that it might have been one of the high school boys, Penny went to the head of the stairs and called:

"Did anyone come up here a moment ago?"

"Not unless it was by way of the back entrance," was the reply.

Decidedly puzzled, Penny returned to her desk. As she sat down a sheet of paper lying on the blotter pad drew her attention. She was certain it had not been there a few minutes earlier.

Reaching for it, she gasped in astonishment. The paper bore a message scrawled in black ink and read:

"To the Editor of the _Weekly Times_:

You are hereby warned to give up your newspaper which offends public taste. We give you three days to wind up your business and close doors. A word to the wise is sufficient."

CHAPTER 11 _MR. JUDSON'S DAUGHTER_

Penny read the message three times. Obviously, it had been placed on her desk during the few minutes she had been absent. Yet she reasoned that it would be useless to search for the cowardly person who undoubtedly had slipped from the building.

"So I am warned to close shop!" she muttered angrily. "And the _Weekly Times_ offends public taste!"

Penny crumpled the paper into a ball, hurling it toward the wire basket.

Reconsidering her action, she recovered the note and, carefully smoothing the wrinkles, placed it in her purse.

"I'll show this to Dad," she told herself. "But no one else."

When Penny's anger had cooled she was left with a vague sensation of misgiving. Resolutely she reflected that it was not unusual for editors to receive threatening notes. Often her father had shown her such communications sent to the _Star_ by cranks.

"It doesn't mean a thing," she a.s.sured herself. "Not a thing. I'll keep on publishing the _Weekly_ as long as I please."

One fact contributed to Penny's uneasiness. Often she worked late in the building, and a single light burning from an upper story window proclaimed to any street watcher that she was alone. In the future she must use far more caution.

Try as she would, Penny could not forget the warning. After the boys who comprised the advertising staff had gone home for dinner, she caught herself listening tensely to every unusual sound. At length she shut the desk and arose.

"I'm doing no good here," she thought in disgust. "I may as well go home."

Taking particular care to lock all doors and windows, Penny left the building. Street lights were blinking on as she climbed into the parked automobile.

Driving mechanically, she weaved through downtown traffic, now and then halting for a red light. As she was starting ahead from an intersection, an elderly man suddenly stepped from the curb. His gaze was upon the pavement, and he did not see the car.

Penny swerved the wheel and slammed on the foot brake. The edge of the fender brushed the man's overcoat. He gasped in astonishment and staggered backwards.

Penny brought the car to a standstill at the curb.

"You're not hurt?" she called anxiously.

"No--no," the man murmured in a bewildered way.