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Updated: May 24, 2025
"It has become necessary, through an incident which occurred yesterday, for me to change my plans," Blaine announced. "I had intended to put you on the trail of a young crook, a relative of Pennold, but I find I must send you instead to Long Bay to look up a hotel register for me and obtain some writing paper with the engraved letter-head from that hotel.
He hangs out at Lafferty's saloon, down on Sand Street, when he ain't off on some steer or other leastways he used to." Morrow folded the warrant slowly, in the pause which ensued, and returned it to his pocket while the couple watched him tensely. "All right, Pennold," he said, at last. "I guess I won't have to use this now.
"What if Jimmy has been up to somethin' on the quiet, that the bulls ain't on to, and this bunch of securities is on the level? If I went to him on the square, and offered him a percentage to play dead, wouldn't he be ready and willin' to divide?" "Of course he would; he's no fool," returned Mrs. Pennold shortly.
For answer Pennold opened a drawer in the table, drew forth a grimy sheet of paper and an envelope, and bent laboriously to his task. It was long past dusk when he had finished, and tossed the paper across the table for his wife's perusal. When she had gazed long at the characters, she shook her head at him, and a slow smile came over her face. "You've forgotten a little yourself, Wally.
"I'm glad you lit into him about young Pennold, Mr. Blaine. He started it!" "But think of the others!" Anita Lawton turned her face for a moment to the spring-like day outside. "Mr. Mallowe dead in his cell from apoplexy, Mr.
"How d'you know he did?" persisted his wife doggedly. "That's what you better find out, but you've gotter be careful about it, in case this whole thing should be a plant." "You don't have to tell me!" Pennold grumbled. "I'll write him first and then wait a few days, and if anyone's tailing me in the meantime, they'll have a run for their money." "Write him!" "Of course.
She was employed in some business capacity downtown, from nine until six; just what it was Mrs. Quinlan did not know. Morrow kept well in the background, in case Mr. Pennold should put in an appearance again, but he did not.
For a long moment after his buoyant stride had carried him out of sight around the corner, Walter Pennold and his wife sat in thoughtful silence. Then the woman spoke. "What d'ye think of it all, Wally?" "Dunno." The gentleman addressed drew from his pocket a blackened, odoriferous pipe and sucked upon it. "Must be some lay, of course.
"The smile faded from Father's face, and he responded very gravely, with a curious, halting pause between the words: "'Yes. He has brought me work. "I forgot all about that episode, in the weeks and months which followed. Charley Pennold called irregularly. Sometimes he would come three or four times a week, then again we would not see him for two or three months.
"We don't have to do any planting, Mame. It's a good deal less than seven years since the Mortimer Chase's silver plate lay in your cellar." "Silver plate in our cellar!" echoed Mame in genuine amazement. She stepped forward again, her shrewish chin out-thrust, but Walter Pennold raised his face, and at sight of it she stopped as if turned to stone. "It's no use!" he cried, brokenly.
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