“You’re a former Press employee?”
“Sure, I know it’s hard to believe,” Old Horney replied, “but when a fellow’s out of a job and money, it doesn’t take long to go to seed. I lost my place when Judson closed down.”
“And you’ve been unable to find other work?”
“In the past nine months I’ve worked exactly six days. No one hires an old fellow any more. If I could have kept on with Judson three more years I’d have been due for my pension.”
“What work did you do on the paper?” asked Penny with growing interest.
“I was a pressman.”
Penny shot Louise a glance which was almost triumphant. Her voice when she spoke held an undertone of excitement.
“Horney,” she said, “it’s barely possible I may be able to find some sort of work for you later on. Do you mind writing your name on this paper?”
The old man took the sheet she handed him, without hesitation scrawling his name, Mark Horning.
Penny studied the writing a moment. To her relief it bore not the slightest resemblance to the warning message left on her desk the previous night.