“This much is clear, Penny. Jerry saw the man talking with the two seamen, and they all appear to be mixed up in Grant Atherwald’s disappearance. We’ll print what we’ve learned, and let the police figure out the rest.”
“Dad, this story is developing into something big, isn’t it?”
He nodded as he moved a swinging light bulb slowly over the paper, hastening the drying process.
“After the next issue of the Star is printed, every paper in the state will send their men here. But we’re out ahead, and when the big break comes, we may get that first, too.”
“Oh, Dad, if only we can!”
“Count yourself out of the case from now on, young lady,” he said severely. “You scared the wits out of me tonight, risking your life to save that no-good. Now shed those wet clothes before you come down with pneumonia.”
He tossed her an overcoat, a sweater and a crumpled pair of slacks which Griffith had found under one of the boat seats. Leaving the cabin, he closed the door behind him.
Penny did not change her clothes at once. Instead, she sat down at the table, studying the warning message.
“‘Better come through,’” she read aloud. “Does that mean Kippenberg is supposed to pay money? And what fate did Atherwald meet?”