“Not here,” thought Penny. “I was afraid of it.”
Deciding to telephone home, she entered one of the glass enclosed booths at the end of the newsroom. As she lifted the receiver, a voice from behind her said distinctly:
“Put that down!”
Startled, Penny whirled around. Peter Fenestra stood in the doorway of the booth.
“Come out of there!” he ordered harshly.
Penny obeyed with alacrity as she tried to gather her wits. The building was practically deserted, and Fenestra took care to stand between her and the outside door.
“What do you want here?” she demanded coldly.
“The letter.”
Penny stared at him blankly. Her astonishment was genuine.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Fenestra said harshly. “I want the letter you and that old man were talking about.”