“It hasn’t been returned,” Mrs. Weems admitted. “I can’t imagine why the work takes so long.”
“I think I can,” announced Penny. “But you never would believe me if I told you, so I won’t.”
Racing to the porch, she revealed to her father what she thought had occurred. It was her theory that the agent who had called at the Parker home days earlier had in actuality been one of Al Gepper’s assistants.
“Don’t you see, Dad!” she cried. “The man obtained a picture of Cousin David, and probably turned it over to the medium.” Her face fell slightly. “Of course, that still doesn’t explain how the painting slowly materialized.”
“Nor does it explain the ghost or the banjo. Penny, couldn’t Gepper have painted the picture himself in the darkness?”
“There wasn’t time, Dad. Besides, he held a flashlight on the painting. No human hand touched it.”
“You say, too, that the banjo was high overhead when it played?”
“That’s right, Dad. Gepper couldn’t have reached the strings. The instrument floated free in the air.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
“Believe me, it was, Dad. It’s no wonder Gepper is gaining such influence over Mrs. Weems. He’s as slick as a greased fox!”