hereafter, I’ll ask Mr. Schirr to reinstate you on the payroll.”

Old Mose brightened. “I suah nuff will!” he said jubilantly. “I won’t have no mo’ truck with dat ghost. No sir!”

To face Mr. Schirr once more, was a most unpleasant ordeal for Penny. Nevertheless, she sought his office, apologizing for the intrusion.

“I am busy,” the editor said pointedly. “What is it you want?”

Penny explained that she had talked with Mose Johnson and was convinced that his offense would not be repeated.

“I want you to put him back on his old job,” she requested.

“Impossible!”

“Why do you take that attitude?” inquired Penny, stiffening for an argument. “Dad always liked Mose.”

“One can’t mix sentiment with business. I have a job to do here and I intend to do it efficiently.”

“Dad probably will show up before another day.”

“I don’t like to dash your hopes,” said Mr. Schirr. “We’ve tried to spare your feelings. Perhaps your father will be found, but you know I tried to warn him he was inviting trouble when he mixed with the tire-theft gang.”

“So you believe Dad has fallen into the clutches of those men?”

“I do.”

“What makes you think so? Have you any evidence?”

“Not a scrap.”

“And how did you learn Dad intended to expose the higher-ups?”

“I don’t mind telling you I heard him talking to Jerry Livingston about it.”

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re getting nowhere with this discussion,” Mr. Schirr said impatiently. “I really am busy—”

“Will you reinstate Mose?” Penny asked, reverting to the original subject.

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