“Here it is!” said Penny triumphantly. She placed the clipping on Mr. Schultz’ desk.
“Haven’t I had enough of that man in one day!” the editor snorted. “The old skinflint never paid me for the ad either!”
“Who is J. Burmaster?” Penny inquired eagerly.
“Who is he?” The editor’s gray-blue eyes sent out little flashes of fire. “He’s the most egotistical, thick-headed, muddle-brained property owner in this community.”
“Not the man who was just here?”
“Yes, that was John Burmaster.”
“Then he lives in Hobostein?”
“He does not,” said the editor with emphasis. “It’s bad enough having him seven miles away. You don’t mean to tell me you haven’t seen Sleepy Hollow estate?”
Penny shook her head. She explained that as strangers to the town, she and Louise had made no trips or inquiries.
“Sleepy Hollow is quite a show place,” the editor went on grudgingly. “Old Burmaster built it about a year ago. Imported an architect and workmen from the city. The house has a long bridge leading up to it, and is supposed to be like the Sleepy Hollow of legend. Only the legend kinda backfired.”