BY HULBERT FOOTNER NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY HULBERT FOOTNER RAMSHACKLE HOUSE. I PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS CHAPTER I The Canoeist II The Story in the Sun-Paper III An Irruption from the World IV Beside the Little Temple V On Board the Alexandra VI Moonlight VII The Trip to Town VIII The Return IX The Night Long X Days of Suspense XI Pen's Hand is Forced XII The Alexandra Sails Away XIII In Chambers XIV Extra! XV Postscript...

Broome's Point proper is a crescent-shaped spit of sand separating the mouth of the Pocomico River from the waters of Chesapeake Bay. The end of the spit is decorated with one of those odd structures that our lighthouse service is so partial to, an octagonal house mounted on spreading, spindly piles, the whole looking uncommonly like a spider. The Broome estate comprises all the high ground back of the spit for upwards of four miles up the bay shore and a mile along the river. The mansion stands

When Pen ran into the dining-room she found the little man seated at the table, his reading glasses on his nose and the newspaper spread before him. The face that he raised to her was pale and moist with excitement; his hands gripping the edge of the paper made it rattle with their trembling. Nevertheless in her first glance Pen was assured that no disaster threatened their house. There was even a sort of pleasure mixed with his horror. Her first reaction was to chagrin at having been frightened

At all times Pen was an early riser but next morning she was up with the sun. While she was dressing, her collie Dougall set up a great barking in the back yard. At night he was kept fastened in his kennel there to keep watch that no fox or 'possum came after the poultry. Pen knew that it could not be one of those marauders now because it was broad day and there was no alarm amongst the chickens. So she paid no attention. Doug, like the best of dogs, sometimes raised a false alarm. Night was too

When Pen was sure that the house was emptied of strangers she went downstairs to see about the belated supper. She was mad with anxiety to know what was happening outside, but whatever comes, people must eat. Everything in the kitchen was at sixes and sevens of course, and Aunt Maria nowhere to be seen. The old negress presently waddled in panting. She was both terrified and delighted by the gale of excitement that had suddenly blown upon the settled peace of Broome's Point. In order to divert h

Under the awning on the after deck of the Alexandra , Pen was reclining in a luxurious basket chair with her feet crossed on a rest in front of her. Her brow was clear, her lips smiling. To have seen her then, one would never have guessed that she had anything more on her mind than the deliciousness of luxury which she was experiencing for the first time in her life. As a matter of fact being a human, pretty girl she took to it like a cat to cream, but just the same there was a lot hidden behind

It was night and Pen with her indomitable carriage was trudging along the road that led straight back between the fields. Under her arm was the inevitable grass bag. Chin up and back very straight there was always a sort of challenge in Pen's gait. As a child she had been just the same, one of those adorable little fighters who conceal a heart as tender as love itself. There was a photograph of her at the age of three with a look wistful, proud, and astonished at meanness. She still had that loo

On Tuesday morning Pen, dressed for town, was breakfasting with her father in the high-ceilinged, shabby dining-room. The elder Pendleton pushed his plate from him and with an ostentatiously careless air, took a packet of crisp bills from his breast pocket and commenced to count them. It was hard to get any change out of Pen, but this time she laid down her fork and frankly stared. "Where did you get it?" she demanded. Pendleton exulted in the effect he was creating. He had rehearsed an answer t

It was five o'clock and the stores were closing as Pen sought for the big car. She picked it out from afar, parked in the double rank that lined the Lexington street hill. For five hours it had completely passed out of her mind, and she was terrified now of facing the justly indignant chauffeur. To be sure she had told him she didn't know how long she would be, but five hours! But it proved to be nothing in his life. That was how he spent the greater part of his days, waiting. It was easier to w

One of Delehanty's first measures was to have the big house watched. Even before Riever could have got back to the beach, Pen from her front window saw the little group come in by the drive, separate and lose themselves in the darkness. One came to the house. Pendleton let him in. By Mr. Delehanty's orders he was to keep watch inside the house all night. He was to remain in the hall of the second floor. Pendleton's outraged protests were in vain. The man brought a chair up from the dining-room,

Pen lay on her bed wide-eyed and dry-eyed until near dawn. It did not lessen her misery any that a good part of it was anger at having her will balked. She accused Don by turn of callousness, of ingratitude, of folly; she tried to tell herself that he was not worth saving, but without abating any of her torments of anxiety as to his fate. It was worse than anxiety; she had a horrible, dull certainty that he would be taken as soon as it became light. Like a wilful child intent only upon having hi

It was a justly aggrieved father that Pen found awaiting her in the dining-room. "Half-past eight!" he said. "Where on earth have you been!" Pen was quiet and starry-eyed with happiness. It didn't matter much to her what she said. But she rather wished to avoid a scene. She juggled with the truth a little. "Mr. Delehanty wanted me to help him with the search." "Delehanty! ... Wanted you!" he said amazed. It was too much for him. "And Mr. Riever," Pen added as an afterthought. The magic name moll

Next morning Pen was late, for her, in getting down-stairs, and her father was before her. He had already been out-of-doors and had heard the startling news. He was pale with excitement, and his expression presented a comical mixture of elation and outraged parental authority. "What is this?" he cried. "Counsell is caught? And caught by you!" "That pleases you, doesn't it?" said Pen, in a quiet way very aggravating to an excited man. "Pleases me?" he cried. "My daughter starting out at night on

The Criminal Court Building in New York City is a huge square block of yellow brick with an incongruous cornice and grandiose trimmings. It is of the Tammany period. Among architectural aberrations, architects give it a leading place. It was run up on the site of an old pond, and was no sooner up than it threatened to fall down again. There was a great scare at the time, but that has long ago been forgotten. The monument still stands, secure in its ugliness. It is one of the busiest places in th

From the New York Courier , July 27th, 192— At 3.40 this afternoon Ernest Riever was found dead in a house he occasionally occupied at — East 39th street, this city. He had shot himself through the head. The sensational developments in the Counsell case during the past two days were brought to a still more sensational conclusion this afternoon when Ernest Riever was discovered to have killed himself. Ever since yesterday morning it has been an open secret around town that Riever was the unnamed

"Don't drive so fast Don! It makes my hair rise the way you take these curves!" "I'll try to remember ... Lord! but it's good to have an accelerator under your big toe again! ... This lil' ole bus is about all I own, Pen!" "You'll soon get a fresh start, now ... You're driving just as fast as ever!" "Sorry! I feel as if that mob was still behind us. Wasn't it ghastly!" "But they were friendly!" "Oh, friendly! Three days ago they would just as lief have strung me up to a lamp-post. I could feel i