“You’re more susceptible to pneumonia than I am,” Penny said, giving her a little push. “Dash on home, and get into warm, dry clothing. And don’t forget to take off that life preserver before you hop into bed!”
Thus urged, Louise reluctantly backed Mr. Parker’s car to the main street, and drove away.
“Now I’ll slosh over to the drugstore and call the Star office,” Penny offered briskly. “Lend me a nickel, Dad.”
“I’m crazy as an eel to let you stay,” Mr. Parker muttered, fumbling in his pocket for a coin. “You should have gone with Louise.”
“Let’s argue about that tomorrow, Dad. Right now we must work fast unless we want other newspapers to scoop us on this story.”
While her father remained behind to direct bridge traffic, Penny ran to the nearest drugstore. Darting into the one telephone booth ahead of an astonished woman customer, she called Editor DeWitt of the Star. Tersely she relayed her father’s orders.
“Jerry and Salt will be out there in five minutes,” DeWitt promised. “Now what can you give us on the explosion? Did you witness it?”
“Did I?” echoed Penny. “Why, I practically caused it!”
With no further encouragement, she launched into a vivid, eye-witness account of the bridge dynamiting. As she talked, a re-write man on another telephone, took down everything she reported.
“Now about the saboteur’s motorboat,” he said as she finished. “Can you give us a description of it?”