“Then the bridge does operate!” Penny exclaimed.
“Sure it does. That’s my job, to raise and lower it whenever the owner says the word. But the bridge ain’t fit for delivery trucks and such-like. One of them big babies would crack through like goin’ over sponge ice.”
“Well, I rather envy your employer,” said Penny lightly. “It isn’t every lady who has her own private drawbridge.”
“She is kind of exclusive-like that way, Miss. Mrs. Kippenberg she keeps the drawbridge up so she’ll have more privacy. And I ain’t blamin’ her. These here newspaper reporters always is a-pesterin’ the life out of her.”
Penny nodded sympathetically and walked back to make her report to Salt.
“No luck?” he demanded.
“Guess twice,” she laughed. “The old bridgeman just took it for granted I was one of the wedding guests. It will be all right for us to go over in the guest launch as soon as it arrives.”
Salt gazed ruefully at his clothes.
“I don’t look much like a guest. Think I’ll pass inspection?”
“Maybe you could get by as one of the poor relations,” grinned Penny. “Pull your hat down and straighten your tie.”