Louise dropped the dishcloth and hurried upstairs. When she returned ten minutes later, her chum was swishing the last of the soapsuds down the sink drain. Another five minutes and they were in Penny’s battered car, speeding toward Corbin.
The sun rode high in the sky by the time they came within view of the drawbridge. Noticing that a press car from a rival newspaper was parked at the end of the road, Penny drew up some distance away. She could see two reporters talking with the old watchman.
“Evidently, they’re having no luck in getting over to the estate,” she remarked.
“Then what about us?”
“Oh, we have our own private taxi service,” Penny chuckled. “At least I hope so.”
Taking a circuitous route so they would not be noticed by the bridgeman, the girls went down to the river’s edge. Far up the stream Penny saw the familiar rowboat drifting with the current. At her signal the small boy seized his oars and rowed toward shore.
“I was here at eight o’clock just as you said,” he declared. “That fellow up there by the bridge offered me a dollar to take him across the river. I turned him down.”
“Good,” approved Penny.
“Do you want to go across the river now?” the boy asked.
“Yes, please.” Penny stepped into the boat and made room for Louise. “Keep close to the bank until we are around the bend. Then I’ll show you where to land.”