The messenger boy turned the beam of his flashlight on the telegram. “Mrs. Lennie Botts, Stop 4, Care of G. A. Deming,” he read aloud. “This is the place all right.”
“But Mrs. Botts isn’t at home now.”
“I’ve had a lot of trouble getting here,” the boy complained. “Even had to climb over the gate. How about signing for the telegram?”
“Oh, all right,” agreed Penny, accepting the pencil. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that idea myself!”
In return for the telegram she gave the boy a small tip. The moment he had gone, she closed the front door and switched on a table lamp.
Penny found herself in a luxuriously furnished living room. The rug underfoot was Chinese, the furniture solid mahogany, hand carved. However, she had no interest in her surroundings. Rather tensely, she examined the telegram. Dared she open it?
“What’s ten years or so of jail in my young life?” she cajoled herself. “I’m willing to spend it in Sing Sing if only I can find Dad!”
Penny ripped open the envelope. The message, addressed to Mrs. Lennie Botts was terse and none too revealing:
“HAVE CHANGED PLANS. WILL RETURN THE TWENTY-SEVENTH BY PLANE. PLEASE HAVE EVERYTHING IN READINESS.”
The telegram was signed by the owner of the estate, G. A. Deming.