For nearly a week the household had been thrown completely out of its usual routine by the editor’s illness. Overwork combined with an attack of influenza had sent him to bed, there to remain until he should be released by a doctor’s order. With a telephone at his elbow, Mr. Parker had kept in close touch with the staff of the Riverview Star but he fretted at confinement.
“I can’t half look after things,” he complained. “And now Miss Hilderman, the society editor, is sick. I don’t know how we’ll get a good story on the Kippenberg wedding.”
Penny looked up quickly. “Miss Hilderman is ill?”
“Yes, DeWitt, the city editor, telephoned me a few minutes ago. She wasn’t able to show up for work this morning.”
“I really don’t see why he should bother you about that, Dad. Can’t Miss Hilderman’s assistant take over the duties?”
“The routine work, yes, but I don’t care to trust her with the Kippenberg story.”
“Is it something extra special, Dad?”
“Surely, you’ve heard of Mrs. Clayton Kippenberg?”
“The name is familiar but I can’t seem to recall—”
“Clayton Kippenberg made a mint of money in the chain drug business. No one ever knew exactly the extent of his fortune. He built an elaborate estate about a hundred and twenty-five miles from here, familiarly called The Castle because of its resemblance to an ancient feudal castle. The estate is cut off from the mainland on three sides and may be reached either by boat or by means of a picturesque drawbridge.”