“Only to you. From the threat I dope it out that Judson was sent to prison years ago, and he’s still wanted.”
Penny nodded as she placed the letter in her pocketbook. His guess was a shrewd one, but she could tell him nothing without breaking her promise to Mr. Judson.
“Horney,” she said, “a great deal hinges upon this letter. You’ll not tell anyone what you’ve learned?”
“Oh, I’ll keep it to myself. I’m not one to get Judson into trouble. He’s had enough of it already.”
Penny noticed that her father’s car was not in the garage. She reasoned that since he had not come home he must be working late at the Star office as he frequently did.
“Jump in, Horney,” she invited, swinging wide the car door. “I’m going downtown to find Dad. I’ll give you a ride.”
She was grateful that the pressman had little to say as they sped through dimly lighted residential streets.
How much he suspected she could only guess. But the letter had made it clear to her that the former publisher never had completed his prison sentence.
“That was why he didn’t answer me when I asked about Pauletta’s age!” she thought. “He must have escaped from prison soon after he was sent there!”
No longer did Penny wonder why Mr. Judson had not refused Peter Fenestra’s repeated demands for money. Obviously he had feared a far worse fate than exposure—return to the New York state prison.