“But why should Judson ruin his career rather than face exposure?” she reflected. “Other men have made mistakes in their youth and started over again. The truth might have humiliated him, but Riverview people would have taken a charitable attitude.”
Deeply troubled, Penny gathered together her belongings and went in search of Old Horney. Finding him initiating Fred Clousky in his new duties, she discreetly invited him to attend the picnic.
“Thank you mightily,” responded the pressman, “but I’m not dressed for it. These pants are so shiny you could use ’em for a mirror.”
“Don’t you worry about your clothes, Horney. Besides, it will be so dark no one will notice. Dad gave you a special invitation.”
“Did he now?” The old pressman could not hide his pleasure. “Well, if you think he really wants me, maybe I’ll go.”
“You wash up while I get the car,” Penny urged. “We’re rather late.”
Within ten minutes, Old Horney met her at the front entrance. His hair was combed, he wore a frayed coat, and had contrived to polish his shoes.
“Horney,” Penny said abruptly as they drove toward the river, “did you ever hear that Matthew Judson had been in trouble before he gave up his paper?”
“You mean financial?” the pressman inquired.
“No, I meant of a personal nature. I’ve been thinking over your theory that Judson was blackmailed.”