“It should,” Penny cried jubilantly. “Sweeper Joe went in there not three minutes ago! I’ve suspected him from the first!”
“Aren’t you jumping to pretty fast conclusions?”
“From what I heard him say to the gatekeeper Clayton, I’m sure he’s mixed up in some underhanded scheme.”
“You’re not certain of it, Penny. Joe has been carefully investigated. He seems too stupid a fellow to have engineered such a clever, organized method of pilfering.”
“He never appeared stupid to me. Dad, let’s drift over to the junk shop, and learn what is happening.”
“And give everything away? No, Heiney will report if anything of consequence develops. In the meantime, we must show no interest in the shop.”
To Penny’s disappointment, her father refused to remain longer in the vicinity of the factory. Without glancing toward the junk shop, they walked on to the riverfront. The motorboat they had expected to meet them had not yet arrived. While Mr. Parker purchased a newspaper and sat down on the dock to read, Penny sauntered along the shore.
A short distance away on a stretch of beach, a boat had been overturned. Sally Barker, in blue overalls rolled to the knees, was painting it with deft, sure strokes. Penny walked over to watch the work.
Glancing up, Sally smiled, but did not speak. A smudge of blue paint stained her cheek. She had sanded the bottom of the Cat’s Paw, and now was slapping on a final coat of paint.
“Will it dry in time for the race tomorrow?” Penny inquired, making conversation.