Penny started to hasten on, and then struck by a sudden idea, paused. Addressing the prisoner she demanded:
“Isn’t it true that there is a direct wire connection between this hotel and the one in Riverview?”
The man did not speak.
“You may as well answer up,” said the sheriff. “It’s something which can be checked easily.”
“Yes, there is a direct connection,” answered the attendant.
“And if I know anything about leased wires,” continued Penny with mounting excitement, “it would be possible to have the telephone company switch that wire right over to the Riverview Star office. Then I’d have a direct connection from here to the newspaper. Right?”
“Right except for one minor detail,” the man retorted sarcastically. “The telephone company won’t make a switch just to oblige a little girl.”
Penny’s face fell. “I suppose they wouldn’t do it,” she admitted. “But what a whale of an idea! I could send my story directly to the newspaper, and get my scoop after all. As it is, the Record is almost certain to beat me.”
“Listen!” said the sheriff. “Maybe the telephone company couldn’t make the switch on your say-so, but they’ll pay attention to an order from me. You get busy writing that story, young lady, and we’ll see what can be done.”
Sheriff Clausson turned his prisoner over to a deputy, and returned to find Penny busily scribbling on the back of an envelope, the only writing paper available. Together they went to the long distance telephone, and in a quicker time than the girl had dared hope, arrangements were made for the wire shift to be made.