In the morning, after only five hours of sleep, Penny was back at her desk. Her first act was to dictate the story offering a five-thousand-dollar reward for information about her father. Not even to Salt Sommers did she confide that she had received an anonymous message.
“Everything’s going well here at the plant,” he assured her. “Harley Schirr hasn’t so much as stuck his nose through the door.”
“I hope we’re through with him,” replied Penny soberly. “However, I don’t feel that we are. By the way, no telegram has come from Jerry?”
“No message yet. Guess he didn’t get your wire.”
Throughout the morning, Penny worked tirelessly at her desk. Although her father’s office now was vacant, she did not take possession. Even when she occasionally entered to get papers from the file, it gave her a queer, tight feeling. Her father’s old neck-scarf still hung on the clothes tree. The rubbers he hated to wear stood heel to heel against the wall.
“Dad is alive and well,” she told herself whenever her courage faltered. “By tomorrow he’ll be back. I know he will.”
At noon Salt brought Penny a sandwich which she ate without leaving her desk. As she struggled with the last mouthful, the telephone rang.
“Is this Miss Parker?” inquired a woman’s voice.
Penny gripped the receiver tightly. Her pulse began to pound. Although she had no real reason for thinking so, she suddenly knew that she was in contact with the mysterious writer of the anonymous message.
“Yes,” she replied, keeping her voice calm.