Penny was not to be discouraged so easily. She started slowly up the stairway.
“Stand where you are!” the man ordered sharply. “I’ve been sick, but I’m still a match for any house-breaker. I have a revolver—”
So dark was the stairway that Penny could not know whether or not the man was bluffing. His voice, startlingly similar to her father’s, sounded grim and determined. Knowing that a stranger would have good reason to treat her as a burglar, she was afraid to venture further.
“Dad—” she began.
“Don’t keep calling me Dad!” he snapped.
“Who are you?” asked Penny, completely baffled.
“Who am I?” the man repeated. “Why, I’m Lester Jones, a salesman. I room here.”
The answer dumbfounded Penny. “Then you’re not being held a prisoner by Mrs. Botts?” she faltered.
“On the contrary, Mrs. Botts has been very kind to me. Especially since I’ve been sick.”
Penny’s perplexity increased. “But I’ve seen you wandering in the garden at night,” she murmured. “Why do you do it?”