Penny did not believe that Francine knew the answer either. The girl reporter undoubtedly had been sent to Pine Top upon a definite tip from her editor, yet she could not guess the nature of such a tip. It was fairly evident that Francine was after some sort of evidence, but so far she had made no progress in acquiring it.
“We’re both groping in the dark, searching for something we know is here but can’t see,” thought Penny. “And we watch each other like hawks for fear the other fellow will get the jump!”
The Green Door intrigued and puzzled her. While it might mean nothing at all, she could not shake off a feeling that if once she were able to get inside the room she might learn the answer to some of her questions.
Penny had turned over several plans in her mind, none of which suited her. The most obvious thing to do was to try to bribe an employee of the hotel to give her the information she sought. But if she failed, her identity would be disclosed to Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell. It seemed wiser to bide her time and watch.
Penny awoke the next morning to find large flakes of snow piling on the window sills. The storm continued and after breakfast only the most rugged skiers ventured out on the slopes. Francine hugged a hot air register, complaining that there was not enough heat, Many of the other guests, soon exhausting the supply of magazines, became restless.
Luncheon was over when Penny stamped in out of the cold to find Mr. Glasser fretfully pacing to and fro before the fireplace.
“When will the papers come?” he asked Mrs. Downey.
“Jake usually goes down to the village after them about four o’clock. But with this thick weather, the plane may not get in today.”
“It’s in now, Mrs. Downey,” spoke Penny, shaking snow from her red mittens. “I saw it nearly half an hour ago, flying low over the valley.”
“Then the papers must be at Pine Top by this time.” Mrs. Downey hesitated before adding: “I’ll call Jake from his work and ask him to go after them.”