“But I was so sure, Jerry.” She stooped to examine the padlock. “Well, no wonder! It’s been changed.”
“Then we’re out of luck until the police get here.”
“Isn’t there any way we can open it ourselves?”
“Maybe I can break it.”
“There should be tools in the barn, Jerry.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Leaving Penny, the reporter disappeared in the direction of the barn. Extinguishing the flashlight, she patiently waited.
Suddenly she was startled to hear running footsteps. Barely had she crouched behind the storm cave before a man emerged from among the pine trees adjoining the road. It was Peter Fenestra and he was breathing hard.
Straight toward the cave he ran. Pausing at the slanting door, he peered quickly about, and then fumbled with the padlock. In desperate haste he jerked it loose, swung back the hinged door, and descended the stone steps.
Penny waited a moment, then crept to the entrance.