Danger at the Drawbridge — Reading Companion

Weems thought it wasn't a civilized way to travel."

"I should think not." The corners of Mr. Parker's mouth twitched slightly as he poured coffee from the silver pot. "That lift was built to carry breakfast trays, but not in combination with athletic young ladies."

"What a bore, this business of growing up," sighed Penny. "You can't be natural at all."

"You seem to manage rather well with all the restrictions," her father remarked dryly.

Penny twisted her neck to gaze at her reflection in the dresser mirror beyond the footboard of the big mahogany bed.

"I won't mind growing up if only I'm able to develop plenty of glamour," she said speculatively. "Am I getting any better looking, Dad?"

"Not that I've noticed," replied Mr. Parker gruffly, but his gaze lingered affectionately upon his daughter's golden hair. She really was growing prettier each day and looked more like her mother who had died when Penny was a little girl. He had spoiled her, of course, for she was an only child, but he was proud because he had taught her to think straight. She was deeply loyal and affectionate and those who loved her overlooked her casual ways and flippant speech.

"What happened to the paper boy this morning?" Mr. Parker asked between bites of buttered toast.

"It isn't time for him yet, Dad," said Penny demurely. "You always expect him at least an hour early."

"First edition's been off the press a good half hour," grumbled the newspaper owner. "When I get back to the _Star_ office, I'll see that deliveries are speeded up. Just wait until I talk with Roberts!"

"Haven't you been doing a pretty strenuous job of running the paper right from your bed?" inquired Penny as she refilled her father's cup. "Sometimes when you talk with that poor circulation manager I think the telephone wires will burn off."

"So I'm a tyrant, am I?"

"Oh, everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite, Dad. But you've certainly not been at your best the last few days."

Mr. Parker's eyes roved about the luxuriously furnished bedroom. Tinted walls, chintz draperies, the rich, deep rug, were completely lost upon him. "This place is a prison," he grumbled.

For nearly a week the household had been thrown completely out of its usual routine by the editor's illness. Overwork combined with an attack of influenza had sent him to bed, there to remain until he should be released by a doctor's order. With a telephone at his elbow, Mr. Parker had kept in close touch with the staff of the _Riverview Star_ but he fretted at confinement.

"I can't half look after things," he complained. "And now Miss Hilderman, the society editor, is sick. I don't know how we'll get a good story on the Kippenberg wedding."

Penny looked up quickly. "Miss Hilderman is ill?"

"Yes, DeWitt, the city editor, telephoned me a few minutes ago. She wasn't able to show up for work this morning."

"I really don't see why he should bother you about that, Dad. Can't Miss Hilderman's assistant take over the duties?"

"The routine work, yes, but I don't care to trust her with the Kippenberg story."

"Is it something extra special, Dad?"

"Surely, you've heard of Mrs. Clayton Kippenberg?"

"The name is familiar but I can't seem to recall--"

"Clayton Kippenberg made a mint of money in the chain drug business. No one ever knew exactly the extent of his fortune. He built an elaborate estate about a hundred and twenty-five miles from here, familiarly called _The Castle_ because of its resemblance to an ancient feudal castle. The estate is cut off from the mainland on three sides and may be reached either by boat or by means of a picturesque drawbridge."

"Sounds interesting," commented Penny.

"I never saw the place myself. In fact, Kippenberg never allowed outsiders to visit the estate. Less than a year ago a rumor floated around that he had separated from his wife. There also was considerable talk that he had disappeared because of difficulties with the government over income tax evasion and wished to escape arrest. At any rate, he faded out of the picture while his wife remained in possession of _The Castle_."

"And now she is marrying again?"

"No, it is Mrs. Kippenberg's daughter, Sylvia, who is to be married. The bridegroom, Grant Atherwald, comes from a very old and distinguished family."

"I don't see why the story should be so difficult to cover."

"Mrs. Kippenberg has ruled that no reporters or photographers will be allowed on the estate," explained Mr. Parker.

"That does complicate the situation."