At dinner Penny was so subdued that the housekeeper inquired if she were ill.
“Not yet,” the girl answered. “I’m just thinking about the future. It’s so depressing.”
“Perhaps a picture show would cheer us all,” proposed Mr. Parker.
Mrs. Weems displayed interest, and Penny, without enthusiasm, agreed to go. Eight o’clock found them at the Avalon, a neighborhood theatre. The show was not to Penny’s liking, although her father and the housekeeper seemed to enjoy it. She squirmed restlessly, and finally whispered to her father that she was returning home.
In truth, as Penny well knew, she was suffering from an acute case of “conscience.” Now that it was too late, she regretted having meddled with Mrs. Weems’ money.
Gloomily she walked home alone. As she entered, she heard the telephone ringing, but before she could answer, the party hung up. With a sigh Penny locked the front door again, switched out the lights and went to bed.
For a long while she lay staring at a patch of moonlight on the bedroom carpet. Although she felt tired she could not sleep.
“It’s just as Louise said,” she reflected. “I’m always getting myself into hot water and for no good reason, either!”
Her morose thoughts were interrupted as a hard object thudded against a nearby wall. Penny sat up, listening. She believed that the sound had come from Mrs. Weems’ room, yet she knew she was alone in the house.
Rolling from bed, she groped for a robe, and without turning on the lights, tiptoed down the hall. Mrs. Weems’ door stood open. Was some intruder hidden in that room?