“Salt,” Penny asked abruptly, “how did you get that picture of Atherwald?”
“Snapped it through a hole in the crown of my hat. It’s an old trick. I always wear this special hat when I’m sent out on a hard assignment.”
“I thought a cannon had gone off when the shutter clicked,” Penny laughed. “We were lucky you weren’t caught.”
Emerging from behind the trees, they obtained their first view of the Kippenberg house. Sturdily built of brick and stone, it stood upon a slight hill, its many turrets and towers commanding a view of the two rivers.
“Nice layout,” Salt commented, pausing to snap a second picture. “Wish someone would give me a castle for a playhouse.”
They crossed the moat and found themselves directly behind Grant Atherwald again. Before the bridegroom could enter the house a servant stepped forward and handed him a sealed envelope.
“I was told to give this to you as soon as you arrived, sir,” he said.
Grant Atherwald nodded, and taking the letter, quickly opened it. A troubled expression came over his face as he scanned the message. Without a word he thrust the paper into his pocket. Turning, he walked swiftly toward the garden.
“Salt, did you notice how queerly Atherwald looked—” Penny began, but the photographer interrupted her.
“Listen,” he said, “we haven’t a Chinaman’s chance of getting in the front door. That boy in the fancy knickers is giving everyone the once over. Let’s try a side entrance.”