“Never mind about that,” said Penny. “I mistook you for someone else. Just come inside and I’ll close the doors.”
The man peered outside once more, and noting the intensity of the storm, lost all desire to leave the shelter. He moved away from the entrance, and Penny closed the big, heavy door.
“Come along with me into the pressroom where it is warm,” she invited.
Without comment, the man followed her across the cement toward the loading docks. At the other end of the drive, someone opened the doors for a moment to allow a truck to roll inside. A great gust of wind tore through the passage, and sent the stranger’s hat careening into a corner.
He darted to recapture it. As he stooped to pick it up, an object on a string which he wore about his neck, swung from beneath his sport shirt. Quickly he pushed it out of sight again, but not before Penny had seen the ring and recognized the serpent design.
“He is Mr. Rhett!” she thought, her pulse pounding.
Wisely, she pretended to have observed nothing, and invited him into the pressroom where Jerry was waiting. Celeste, still locked in the storage closet, was rattling the door knob and kicking on the panel with all her strength.
“Jerry,” said Penny, dropping her bombshell. “This is Mr. Rhett.”
The reporter’s mouth dropped agape, while the stranger plainly showed his annoyance.
“I told you I am not Mr. Rhett.”