CHAPTER 2 _REPORTERS NOT WANTED_
In the editorial room of the _Riverview Star_ heads turned and eyebrowslifted as Penny, decked in her best silk dress and white picture hat,clicked her high-heeled slippers across the bare floor. Jerry Livingston,reporter, stopped pecking at his typewriter and stared in undisguisedadmiration.
"Well, if it isn't our Bright Penny," he bantered. "Didn't recognize youfor a minute in all those glad rags."
"These are my work clothes," replied Penny. "I'm covering the Kippenbergwedding."
Jerry pushed his hat farther back on his head and grinned.
"Tough assignment. From what I hear of the Kippenberg family, you'll belucky if they don't throw the wedding cake at you."
Penny laughed and went on, winding her way through a barricade of desksto the office of the society editor. Miss Arnold, the assistant, wastalking over the telephone, but in a moment she finished and turned toface the girl.
"Good morning, Miss Parker," she said stiffly. An edge to her voice toldPenny more clearly than words that the young woman was nettled becauseshe had not been trusted with the story.
"Good morning," replied Penny politely. "Dad said you would be able togive me helpful suggestions about covering the Kippenberg wedding."
"There's not much I can tell you, really. The ceremony is to take placeat two o'clock in the garden, so you'll have ample time to reach theestate. If you get in--" Miss Arnold placed an unpleasant emphasis uponthe words--"take notes on Miss Kippenberg's gown, the flowers, thedecorations, the names of her attendants. Try to keep your factsstraight. Nothing infuriates a bride more than to read in the paper thatshe carried a bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley and roses while actually itwas a bouquet of some other flower."
"I'll try not to infuriate Miss Kippenberg," promised Penny.
Miss Arnold glanced quickly at her but the girl's face was perfectlyserene.
"That's all I can tell you, Miss Parker," she said shortly. "Bring in atleast a column. For some reason the city editor rates the wedding animportant story."
"I'll do my best," responded Penny, and arose.
Salt Sommers was waiting for her when she came out of the office. He wasa tall, spare young man, with a deep scar down his left cheek. He talkednearly as fast as he walked.
"If you're all set, let's go," he said.
Penny found herself three paces behind but she caught up with thephotographer as he waited for the elevator.
"I'm taking Minny along," Salt volunteered, holding his finger steadilyon the signal bell. "May come in handy."
"Minny?" asked Penny, puzzled.
"Miniature camera. You can't always use the Model X."
"Oh," murmured Penny. Deeply embarrassed, she remained silent as theelevator shot them down to the ground floor.
Salt loaded his photographic equipment into a battered press car whichwas parked near the loading dock at the rear of the building. He slid inbehind the wheel and then as an afterthought swung open the car door forPenny.
Salt seemed to know the way to the Kippenberg estate. They shot throughRiverview traffic, shaving red lights and tooting derisively at slowdrivers. In open country he pressed the accelerator down to the floor andthe car roared down the road, only slackening speed as it raced through atown.
"How do you travel when you're in a hurry?" Penny gasped, clinging to herflopping hat.
Salt grinned and lifted his foot from the gasoline pedal.
"Sorry," he said. "I get in the habit of driving fast. We have plenty oftime."
As they rode, Penny gathered scraps of information. The Kippenberg estatewas located six miles from the town of Corbin and was cut off from themainland on three sides by the joining of two wide rivers, one with adirect outlet to the ocean. Salt did not know when the house had beenbuilt but it was considered one of the show places of the locality.
"Do you think we'll have much trouble getting our story?" Penny askedanxiously.
"All depends," Salt answered briefly. He slammed on the brake so suddenlythat Penny was flung forward in the seat.
Another car coming from the opposite direction had pulled up at the sideof the road. Penny did not recognize the three men who were crowded intothe front seat, but the printed placard, _Ledger_ which was pasted on thewindshield told her they represented a rival newspaper in Riverview.
"What luck, Les?" Salt called, craning his neck out the car window.
"You may as well turn around and go back," came the disgusted reply. "Theold lady won't let a reporter or a photographer on the estate. She has aguard stationed on the drawbridge to see that you don't get past."
The car drove on toward Riverview. Salt sat staring down the road,drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the steering wheel.
"Looks like we're up against a tough assignment," he said. "If Les can'tget in--"
"I'm not going back without at least an attempt," announced Penny firmly.
"That's the spirit!" Salt cried with sudden approval. "We'll get on theestate somehow if we have to swim over."
He jerked the press card from the windshield, and reaching into the backseat of the car, covered the Model X camera with an old gunny sack. Theminiature camera he placed in his coat pocket.
"No use advertising our profession too early in the game," he remarked.
Twelve-thirty found Penny and Salt in the sleepy little town of Corbin.Fortifying themselves with a lunch of hot dog sandwiches and pop, theyfollowed a winding, dusty highway toward the Kippenberg estate.
Presently, through the trees, marking the end of the road, an irondrawbridge loomed up. It stood in open position so that boats might passon the river below. A wooden barrier had been erected across the front ofthe structure which bore a large painted sign. Penny read the wordsaloud.
"'DANGEROUS DRAWBRIDGE--KEEP OFF.'"
Salt drew up at the side of the road. "Looks as if this is as far aswe're going," he said in disgust. "There's no other road to the estate.I'll bet that 'dangerous drawbridge' business is just a dodge to keepundesirables away from the place until after the wedding."
Penny nodded gloomily. Then she brightened as she noticed an old man whoobviously was an estate guard standing at the entrance to the bridge. Hestared toward the old car as if trying to ascertain whether or not theoccupants were expected guests.
"I'm going over to talk with him," Penny said.
"Pretend that you're a guest," suggested Salt. "You look the part in thatfancy outfit of yours."
Penny walked leisurely toward the drawbridge. Appraisingly, she studiedthe old man who leaned comfortably against the gearhouse. A dilapidatedhat pulled low over his shaggy brows seemed in keeping with the rest ofhis wardrobe--a blue work shirt and a pair of grease-smudged overalls. Acharred corn-cob pipe, thrust at an angle between his lips, provided sureprotection against the mosquitoes swarming up from the river below.
"Good afternoon," began Penny pleasantly. "My friend and I are lookingfor the Kippenberg estate. We were told at Corbin to take this road butwe seem to have made a mistake."
"You ain't made no mistake, Miss," the old man replied.
"Then is the estate across the river?"
"That's right, Miss."
"But how are guests to reach the place? I see the sign says the bridge isout of commission. Are we supposed to swim over?"
"Not if you don't want to," the old man answered evenly. "Mrs. Kippenberghas a launch that takes the folks back and forth. It's on the other sidenow but will be back in no time at all."
"I'll wait in the car out of the hot sun," Penny said. She started away,then paused to inquire casually: "Is this drawbridge really out oforder?"
The old man was deliberate in his reply. He blew a ring of smoke into theair, watched it hover like a floating skein of wool and finallydisintegrate as if plucked to pieces by an unseen hand.
"Well, yes, and no," he said. "It ain't exactly sick but she sure isailin'
. I wouldn't trust no heavy contraption on this bridge."
"Condemned by the state, I suppose?"
"No, Miss, and I'll tell you why. This here bridge doesn't belong to thestate. It's a private bridge on a private road."
"Odd that Mrs. Kippenberg never had it repaired," Penny remarked. "Itmust be annoying."
"It is to all them that don't like launches. As for Mrs. Kippenberg, shedon't mind. Fact is, she ain't much afraid of the bridge. She drives hercar across whenever she takes the notion."
"Then the bridge does operate!" Penny exclaimed.
"Sure it does. That's my job, to raise and lower it whenever the ownersays the word. But the bridge ain't fit for delivery trucks andsuch-like. One of them big babies would crack through like goin' oversponge ice."
"Well, I rather envy your employer," said Penny lightly. "It isn't everylady who has her own private drawbridge."
"She is kind of exclusive-like that way, Miss. Mrs. Kippenberg she keepsthe drawbridge up so she'll have more privacy. And I ain't blamin' her.These here newspaper reporters always is a-pesterin' the life out ofher."
Penny nodded sympathetically and walked back to make her report to Salt.
"No luck?" he demanded.
"Guess twice," she laughed. "The old bridgeman just took it for granted Iwas one of the wedding guests. It will be all right for us to go over inthe guest launch as soon as it arrives."
Salt gazed ruefully at his clothes.
"I don't look much like a guest. Think I'll pass inspection?"
"Maybe you could get by as one of the poor relations," grinned Penny."Pull your hat down and straighten your tie."
Salt shook his head. "A business suit with a grease spot on the vestisn't the correct dress for a formal wedding. You might get by but Iwon't."
"Then should I try it alone?"
"I'll have to get those pictures somehow," stated Salt grimly.
"Maybe we could hire a boat of our own," Penny suggested. "Of course itwouldn't look as well as if we arrived on the guest launch."
"Let's see what we can line up," Salt said, swinging open the car door.
They walked to the river's edge and looked in both directions. There wereno small boats to be seen. The only available craft was a large motorboat which came slowly downstream toward the open drawbridge. Pennycaught a glimpse of the pilot, a burly man with a red, puffy face.
Salt slid down the bank toward the water's edge, and hailed the boat.
"Hey, you, Cap'n!" he called. "Two bucks to take me across the river."
The man inclined his head, looked steadily at Salt for an instant, thendeliberately turned his back.
"Five!" shouted Salt.
The pilot gave no sign that he had heard. Instead, he speeded up the boatwhich passed beneath the drawbridge and went on down the river.